


Infinite Timelines

by Pr_Anx



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Brother Kraglin, Chapter 15: Major Character Death, Chapter 16: Girl!Peter, Drabbles, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Word Prompts, Yondu trying to dad, Young Peter, mild swearing, tags will be updated as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-08 05:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 36,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12857352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pr_Anx/pseuds/Pr_Anx
Summary: A collection of prompts given to me by lovely people on tumblr (formerly titled One Word Prompt Drabbles)





	1. Catwalk

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom, and I have no beta so if there are any mistakes please let me know! There's no linear time-line in the chapters (unless I think up something, in which case they're'll be a note for it), so there are some where Peter's canon age when he got abducted, and some where he was a baby when the Ravagers get him. 
> 
> Each new drabble will be posted when it's finished (since I'm bad at keeping up with schedules, and don't wanna have a set posting time).
> 
> And, if y'all wanna see something specific, don't be afraid to send me a prompt either here or on my tumblr ( ladyophera )!

“Hey, Yondu?” Peter yanks lightly on Yondu’s sleeve. It’d be annoying if having the kid pulling at his jacket with every question hadn’t become the norm at this point.

“What, boy?” He’s trying to pay attention to the drunken rabble below the catwalk (secretly hoping none of the crew is stupid enough to start throwing bottles), but Peter’s still pulling on his sleeve.

“Can you lift me up so I can walk on the rail?” 

Yondu frowns, looking at the rail then at Peter. The damn thing’s about as wide as his big toe and hardly sturdy, and Yondu’s not looking forward to scrapping the kid off the floor when he falls.

“The hell you wanna do that for? Shit’s skinnier than you.” He pokes Peter’s arm to make a point. He _should_ worry that the kid’s still a twig even after eating his weight in food every meal, but Peter’s a ball of energy so he doesn’t.

“I did it all the time back on Terra, I won’t fall.” 

Yondu’s not sure when Peter stopped calling Terra ‘Earth’, but he’s sure it’s around the time the kid started trying to mimic the Ravagers around him.

“C’mon, please?” 

He’s already got Yondu’s scowl pretty damn close, and Kraglin still hasn’t shut up about how he’s starting to pick up Xandarian words.

Yondu sighs, gumbles something in Centaurian, and helps Peter onto the railing, wondering if all Terrans are dumb enough to like high, dangerous places or if he'd just gotten the defective one.

The kid’s got good balance, Yondu’ll give’em that, but he still keeps a tight grip on the back of his shirt. Not that he’s worried, really, ‘cause he ain’t. He just doesn’t want to find a new Terran.

Yondu continues his watch over the rowdy crowd of Ravagers below the walk, though his meandering is slowed by Peter. He has half a mind to comm Kraglin to take over the Drunk Watch so he can have an excuse to get Peter back on semi-solid ground. 

He turns to make another circuit on the walk, quickly grasping Peter’s shirt with his other hand, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden appearance of Kraglin. 

Yondu quickly crosses his arms and leans back against the rail (because like hell he needs Kraglin thinkin’ he’s worried about Peter falling), feeling the reverberation of footsteps knocking against his spine for a moment. He’s sure he didn’t hit back on it _that_ hard.

There’s a cheer from below, but Yondu ignores it in favor of glaring at his too-sneaky First Mate.

“What’cha doin’, Cap’n?” The First Mate says with an undertone that clearly states he’s trying not to laugh.

“Boy’s got a death wish.” 

“And yer makin’ sure that wish don’t come true, eh?” Kraglin looks over Yondu’s shoulder for a brief moment before snapping his attention back to his captain. There’s a look Yondu’s not sure he likes on the man’s face (smug, with a hint of humor) but he’s long come to the conclusion Kraglin’s a bit odd.

“Y’know, I think you and Quill need to have a bit’a bonding time. How ‘bout you go teach’em something.” Yondu suggests. Peter’s been hyper all day, and he knows putting the kid with Kraglin will be a good lesson not to fuck with (or scare) his captain.

Kraglin snorts, crossing his arms in a mirror of the Centaurian. 

“That’d be all well an’ good, sir, but there’s a bit of a hitch to that plan a’ yers.” Again, Yondu’s not sure he likes the look his First Mate’s giving him. He’s tempted to whistle it right off his face, but, like finding another Terran, finding another First Mate is tedious work (and he’s maybe a little attached to both of’em).

“And what’d that be, Kraggles?” 

“Y’dropped’em.” 

_Shit._

(About five minutes later, Tulk returns a sniffling Terran to the catwalk and thanks Yondu before returning back to the party below. When asked, Peter mumbles something about Tulk winning a bet.)


	2. Sweet

Peter crossed his arms and gave the two guardsmen the best Yondu Scowl he could muster. It wasn’t working (they were far from intimidated by a ten year old’s glare), but it made Peter feel like he was doing something other than just sitting around.

They’d come down to Ruha (being one of the _very_ few planets Ravagers were welcome) for a job (a quick little in-and-out thing that required only four crew members and a total of five minutes) and once it had been done, Peter had been ordered to stay put on a playground while Yondu, Tulk, and some trainee named Halkin dealt with the broker.

And Peter’d done just that; sat on what he guessed were Ruha’s version of a swing set (which were just hovering slabs that would only move if the individual sitting on them knew how to actually use them, which meant Peter wasn’t moving an inch) and waited impatiently for them to get back. 

An hour turned into two and before he knew it, there were two officers standing in front of him, asking where his parents were. Peter wasn’t about to say his mother was dead and he didn’t know his father, so he just said:

“M’dad’s around shopping. Should be back any minute now.”

Instead of looking reassured, the officers instead shared looks, nods, and even a weird grimace before hauling Peter off the swing set and into the nearest orphanage.

“You poor dear,” the matron had cooed, “to be left alone like this!”

“I’m guessing he’s Xandarian, but he won’t tell us anything.” One of the officers grumbled, clearly used to frightened, questioning orphans and not the grumpy, feisty boy they’d found on the playground.

The matron let out a loud _tsk_ at the officers, “No sight of his parents?”

“None, and he’d been there nearly two hours.”

So they’d been watching him? _Great_.

“Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself, son?” The matron smiled calmly at Peter, showing rows of straight teeth (a strange sight after two years on the _Eclector_ , where deplorable dental hygiene and razor-sharp teeth were the norm).

“My dad’s gonna beat the hell outta you guys.” Peter said automatically, his gaze locked on the officers.

Peter’s pretty sure Yondu’ll more’n likely beat the hell out of _him_ first. Not for disappearing or making Yondu look for him, but for the fact Peter’s called him ‘dad’. 

He can picture it all now; Yondu bursting into the front door, yelling out Peter’s name in his _Terran’s-on-the-menu_ voice, and then the matron will ask if he’s the father Peter’s been talking about and...well... 

Hopefully Yondu will wait until after they’ve left the orphanage to set it on fire. 

The matron looked taken aback for a moment, but just cleared her throat and resumed smiling.

“I’m sure we can find a spare bed for you, son,” she continued, even though Peter was still glaring at the officers, “what’s your name?”

Before he could think up some fake name (or even just tell her to fuck off), the front door swung open and there, in all his frustrated, glowering glory, was Yondu.

“There you are, boy! Ain’t I told you to stay put?” The captain shouted as he stalked into the building.

“I did!” Peter shouted back indignantly, “But those two idiots-” he chucked a thumb at the two flabbergasted guardsmen “-dragged me here!”

Yondu’s glare switched from Peter to the officers.

“You manhandle my boy?” He growled, low and threatening.

“No!” The two shouted over Peter’s shrill “Yes!”

“You must be the boy’s father.” The matron quickly cut in before Yondu could whistle.

Peter tensed, fight or flight response kicking in as he regarded the Centaurian. Yondu was either going to blow up and kill everyone in the room, or say yes and they would go back to the _Eclector_ without a fight.

Peter wondered if he’d get a Ravager’s funeral or if Yondu’d bury him right there.

“Damn right I am, and yer damn lucky I got places to be or this shithole would be floor-level by now.” 

Peter jumped from the chair as Yondu motioned towards the door, both sending near-matching glares at the guardsmen as they left.

They walked in silence (or, as silent as Yondu could be with his agitated mumbling) back to Yondu’s _Warbird_ and set off, eager to leave Ruha far behind. 

Tulk and the new guy were digging through a large crate at the back of the ship, inventorying whatever they’d gotten in exchange for the job they’d done, and paid no attention to their captain and his pet Terran. Yondu glanced back at them as he set their course (and then got frustrated when the Nav stopped working twice), but didn’t say anything to them. Instead, he turned his attention to Peter.

“You okay, Pete?” He asked quietly. 

“Yeah.” Not the truth, really, but not a lie either, seeing as he was okay now he was back with familiar faces. He wasn’t about to admit to Yondu he was three steps from crying back at that orphanage and had only stopped from doing so by using his tough-guy act.

“Good. You do something like that again an’ I’ll-”

“Eat me?” Peter quipped, used to the usual threat. Yondu _really_ needed new material (though Peter wasn’t dumb enough to say it).

Yondu gave him a toothy grin, metal capped teeth shining ominously in the dim light of the cabin.

“Bet yer ass I will, boy.” 

(Peter would find out later, from Kraglin, that Yondu had comm’d Kraglin when he realized Peter was missing.

“It was damn sweet, really,” Kraglin laughed, “Cap’n was so worried about ya he nearly had me get the whole crew down there.”

“Yondu don’t do sweet, Krags.” _Or worried_ , Peter wanted to say. He would’ve, too, except he kept thinking about how Yondu kept sneaking careful glances at him the whole way back to the ship.

“Nah, he does. It’s just a different kind’a sweet.”)


	3. Mistakes

Yondu made his first mistake pickin’ up the kid. 

He made his second mistake in tellin’ the kid he was his father. 

See, it goes like this:

The crew of the _Eclector_ welcomes their newest cargo, a Terran child named Peter Quill. The boy’s tiny and shaking, eyes filled with tears and face puffy and red from how much he’s cried already.

“You hurt, lad?” Horuz asks, gruff voice gentle as he takes in the sniffling boy.

“What’s wrong with him?” Tulk asks Yondu, who can only shrug and wonder that himself.

“Aw, kid, y’ain’t need t’cry.” Kraglin says, voice sweeter than Yondu’s ever heard it. 

Yondu doesn’t say anything, but that’s mostly because he’s wondering what to do to stop the kid from makin’ him feel something akin to heartburn. He turns to see a sea of worried and curious faces and realizes this kid’s got over half the crew scared for him.

Kid’s not even ten minutes into his stay, and already has three of the toughest crew members (along with a big enough section of the rest of the crew) trying to calm him before he bursts into another bout of gut-wrenching sobs.

A day later, Peter gets his implant, and finally he can understand everyone (not that it makes him cry any less, but at least he’s stopped biting anyone that comes too close). 

Giving the kid an implant is probably mistake number three, but Yondu’s tired of hearing the kid screaming at the crew who’re trying to help him. Brings down morale and all that.

Two days after that, Peter comes up to the Bridge and stands next to the Captain’s chair, eyes wide and wondering, and asks just the _damndest_ thing.

“Are you my dad?”

Now, at this point, Yondu’s caught in an inner struggle with his thoughts (had been since he woke up to find a cute little Terran snuggling up against his side like some touch-starved animal), so he’s not even aware that Peter’s now looking at him with such hope and damn-near desperation, or the fact said cute Terran just dropped the biggest damn question on him. 

He’s got half a mind on how to tell his crew the kid’s staying and where he can get recruits to replace those he’ll lose in the mutiny that’s sure to come, and the other half wondering what he can even do with a kid.

And thus, the only thing Yondu’s brain caught was:

1\. Peter Quill’s voice (and boy did he know it, since the kid hadn’t shut up since he got the implant).  
2\. A question starting with _‘Are you’._

He didn’t even think to ask Peter to repeat himself when he could focus on _anything_ other than lost units and possible mutiny. 

Instead, what came out of his mouth was a short and simple: 

“You bet, kid.”

There was a happy little noise, the stamping of an excited 8-year-old’s feet as he ran from the room in glee, and then deafening silence of the bridge crew.

It was a combination of the silence and the confused stares that broke Yondu out of his thoughts.

“What’re you idjits gawkin’ at?” That sent the crew scurrying back to their work. 

Kraglin, however, moved calmly over to his captain cleared his throat. 

“Er, Cap’n. I got a feelin’ you was lost in thought.”

“Ain’t none’a yer business, but why?”

“Y’just told Pete you was his dad.”

After that, Yondu never made the mistake of getting stuck in his head outside of his own damn quarters (though it _was_ kinda cute when Peter called him ‘dad’, so maybe it wasn’t _all_ bad).


	4. Hiccups

“It says here that, t’get rid of’em, y’either need to hold yer breath until they stop or get’em scared outta you.”

“That’s just dumb. Ain’t there somethin’ quicker?” Yondu’s pretty sure he could scare the whatchacallit’s outta the kid, but he’s not sure Peter’s fragile Terran body can handle too much of that.

“Well, I don’t know what sugar is or how you make paper into a bag, and those’re the only suggestions.”

“And you say that shit’s updated?”

“Yessir.”

“The kid got any ideas?”

“None that I could understand, Cap’n.” Yondu scratches his chin, thinking about their newest problem.

“We could hang’em upside-down? Works for most things around here.” Kraglin says after a short pause. He shrugs when Yondu sends a glare his way. “S’just a suggestion, boss.”

“Get’em in here, Krags. You got the conn until we sort this shit out.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

A few minutes later, Peter walks in with a sour look on his face. 

For the first time since he was old enough to do chores, he’s devoid of grease or dust or whatever else he tends to find while cleaning out the vents. 

No doubt the crew ain’t letting him help because of his little problem (and he ain’t been allowed in the vents since they found out those annoying little sounds carry pretty damn well through the whole ship when he’s up there).

The kid’s taken to carrying around a blank datapad to write on (something about the hiccups causes the translator chip to freak out and bounce back nothing but gibberish when Peter speaks), but the problem with that is the kid’s as lazy a writer as Yondu is a reader so half the time they have to guess at what he’s saying.

“Alright, Pete, how do we get rid’a them things?”

_D’no. Nvr had b4_

Yondu gives him a pointed look and Peter underlines b4 to get his point across. He’s never had hiccups before now, and that makes Yondu about five percent more annoyed.

“Well, Kraglin found a few things we can try out, but I ain’t thinkin’ yer gonna like’em.”

_Y?_

“Y’got two choices, boy-o. Either y’gettin’em scared outta ya or we hang ya upside-down until they stop.” Yondu chuckles as Peter turns an alarming shade of white, but Peter’s hiccups are still going so he ain’t scared enough.

“So what’d ya say, Pete? Scare’em outta ya or a few hours hangin’ by yer toes?” He’s hoping for the scare tactic, but only because hangin’ Peter upside-down is a bit more effort than he’s willing to put in.

_Can I say no?_

“Scare’em out it is!” Yondu says with a grin. 

\---

The kid’s got some kind of damn radar power or something, Yondu’s sure of it. Two years aboard the _Eclector_ and Peter’s developed a sixth sense for the whereabouts of every crew member and it would be impressive if they weren’t trying to get rid of his damn hiccups.

But Peter’s always ten steps ahead of anyone trying to spook him. Even _Kraglin_ , the sneakiest bastard on board, can’t so much as make the kid blink.

After an hour or two, though, it becomes sort of a game. The crew comes up with new and inventive ways to scare the hiccups out of Peter, and Peter is technically learning to pay better attention to his surroundings while finding new ways to escape the crew. 

There’s even a betting pool on who’ll get to scare the noise outta the poor kid (Yondu and Kraglin are at odds on the date, but they’re sure it’ll be within the week; kid’s gonna mess up sooner or later and drop his guard).

At dinner, however, Yondu notices Peter covered in grease and talking adamantly with a group of crew members, not a damn hiccup in hearing-range.

“Quill! C’mere, boy.” Yondu calls over the mess-hall’s usual rabble. Peter looks up at him with a confused frown but just shrugs and walks to the captain’s table.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘ _what_ ’ me, brat. What happened to yer watchamacallit’s?”

“My hiccups? They stopped about an hour ago.”

“They...stopped? What, just like that?”

“Yeah, apparently they stop after a couple hours. Who knew?” Peter gives him a cheeky grin and walks back to his seat. Yondu doesn’t know whether to leap for joy at the knowledge the damnable hiccups are gone, or cry because he lost the bet.


	5. Repeat

The one thing Kraglin doesn’t like about Peter (aside from his growing cocky attitude) is that fact he’s growing up. The curious eight year old they’d picked up on Terra is now a selectively independant fourteen year old. 

He’s still a great kid, but sometimes Kraglin misses that eight year old Peter that followed him around asking questions about everything (sure it had been annoying as shit for a while, but after a few months it was just so commonplace that the crew learned to live with it).

Kraglin remembers the hours he spent teaching Peter about the M-ships, how to fight, weapon maintenance and any other lesson Yondu felt the kid needed to learn. 

Eventually, Peter (the little shit) realizes he can annoy Kraglin by asking the same question over and over until the Xandarian chucked whatever he was asking about at his head.

Of course, that stops when Peter’s run out of things to learn. 

“Stop yer damn moping.” Kraglin jumps at Yondu’s sudden appearance and tries to look sheepish. He hadn’t meant to sulk (especially on the bridge in full view of the crew), he’d just been caught up in fond memories.

“Sorry, Cap’n.”

“None’a that bullshit, Krags. I know what’s got yer head up and locked, so go find Quill and fix it. Don’t come back here until yer done broodin’ or whatever.”

Kraglin grins, gives a half-hearted salute, and heads off to find Peter (who seems to only ever be in the hangar, the mess or in Yondu’s room to annoy their captain).

He’s just in time for Peter to don his headphones and start up his tape as he begins to work on his new M-ship (Kraglin’s still not sure what a _Milano_ is, but at this point he doesn’t care enough to ask).

He sidles up to Peter, leaning against the engine compartment so he knows he’s right in Peter’s eyeline. The kid gives him a sideways glance, but turns back to his work when he realizes Kraglin’s not there to fetch him for something.

After a minute of Kraglin doing nothing but staring at him, Peter pulls off his headphones and turns to him.

“Can I help you?"

“What’s that?” Kraglin points to Peter’s walkman.

“My walkman.”

Kraglin waits for another moment (fighting a smile) before asking again.

“But what’s that?”

“Krags, c’mon. It’s my walkman, you know this.” Peter’s already frustrated and Kraglin hasn’t even _started_ yet.

“Yeah, but what is that?”

“Seriously? Don’t you have First Mate business to attend to?” Bugging Peter is apparently Kraglin’s First Mate Business for today since he was ordered to, but like hell he’s going to tell Peter that.

\---

“The hell you doin’ in here, boy?” Yondu grumbles when he walks into his quarters to see the Terran lounging on his bed.

“Hiding from Kraglin.” There’s a petulant edge to his voice, but Yondu’s far from done trying to admonish him for the tone. 

“What’s that idjit doing now?”

“Buggin’ the shit outta me. He keeps asking me the same question over and over. S’driving me insane.”

Yondu bursts into laughter, leaving Peter to think the Centaurian’s lost his mind too. And maybe he has, peter thinks, he does spend a lot of time with Kraglin, and Kraglin seems to’ve lost his marbles today.

“What’s so funny?”

“You used to do that shit all the time when you was a pup. ‘Cept back then poor Kraggles couldn’t escape you like yer escapin’ him.”

“Bullshit.”

Yondu smirks and turns to root around in his constantly overflowing desk. After a few minutes of grumbling, cursing and a few broken knicknacks, he pulls out a worn datapad. He scrolls for a second or two before handing it to Peter.

On the screen is a recording of a young Peter following Kraglin around asking the same question a thousand times. Peter can hear Yondu stifling laughter behind the camera as it tracks the two of them.

_What is that?_

_A hollow core blaster._

_But what is it?_

_A hollow core blaster, Pete._

_Yeah, but what is it?_

The question’s asked countless times and each time is met with an answer until Kraglin gives up and threatens to chuck the blaster at him. Eight year old Peter just smiles and runs off (possibly to find Yondu and tell him about how great he is at annoying Kraglin). 

Another recording starts up, again with Peter following around Kraglin, asking him the same question again and again until Kraglin threatens him. Peter scrolls down the list of recordings, all named _‘Kraglin Hunting’_. The list seems endless, and it’s almost like Yondu had been following the pair _just_ to get the recordings.

“Kid, you was obsessed with Kraglin for the longest damn time. Well, after y’got over bein’ scared’a everyone, o’course.” Yondu says with an unnaturally fond smile, “I’m guessin’ Krags just misses that.”

Peter feels kind of guilty. 

He didn’t want to be known as Yondu’s _pet Terran_ his whole life, so he’d started taking on more and more work, trying to carry his weight in the crew. But in doing so, he had apparently started ignoring Kraglin, which wasn’t fair seeing as how the guy practically taught him everything he knew.

“I’m givin’ you an’ Krags the day off, Pete. Why don’t you two catch up?” Yondu says nonchalantly. Peter’s a bit surprised at that, seeing as _no one_ got a day off unless they were dead or dying (and neither Peter nor Kraglin were doing either of those).

“But-”

“No buts, kid. Kraglin’s been mopey an’ I ain’t havin’ a mopey First Mate hangin’ around makin’ _me_ mopey. Cheer the bastard up or yer on kitchen duty for the next thousand cycles.”

The threat is empty, but Peter knows the intent behind it. Kraglin’s the only person Yondu can honestly call a friend, so seeing the Xandarian so down is bugging the captain but he knows only Peter can really rectify the situation.

“Okay.” 

“What was that, boy?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Aye, Captain Yondu Udonta, fiercest captain in the universe, tamer of Terran-”

Yondu cuffs him before he can continue, but Peter knows he’s amused. 

Before he can blink, Peter’s shoved out of Yondu’s quarters and told to find Kraglin (or else). It takes him a good thirty minutes to actually _find_ Kraglin, but when he does he has a plan ready.

He takes a seat next to Kraglin, who’s so focused on cleaning his favorite knife he doesn’t even say hello, takes a deep breath and asks:

“What’s that?”

For the rest of the day, Kraglin tries his best to lose Peter in the _Eclector’s_ maze-like halls (though it’s only for show, of course, as even the dumbest of the crew can see he’s enjoying the attention), while Peter tries to drive him insane with dumb questions stuck on repeat.


	6. Bundle

“He’s damn cute, Cap’n.” Kraglin says with a grin.

“He ain’t _cute_ , kid, he’s a baby.” 

“Babies are cute, though.”

“Then _you_ hold’em, my arm’s gettin’ tired.” 

“Nah, I just got my ears to stop ringin’ from last time I held’em.” Yondu shrugs (lightly, so as not to wake the baby in his arms). He hadn’t had any problems with the kid. Hell, the baby hadn’t done anything but gurgle and babble since Yondu’d started holding him.

Peter Quill, who’s barely old enough to do anything aside from cry, eat, shit, sleep and cry more, is the cutest thing Yondu’s ever seen (and he’s seen a damn few cute things). Little button nose, soft squishy face, silky skin and hair -everything about him just screams _hug me_.

Of course, the crew isn’t too thrilled about having a baby on board, but Yondu couldn’t care a whit about what most of’em think. And sure they’d lost a shit-ton of units not handing the boy over, but the crew trust Yondu to recoup their losses (or, at least, trust he wants to avoid a mutiny).

At first, Yondu was tempted to just chuck the kid at the first eligible crew member he could find, but halfway through the process of finding said eligible crew member, he’d kind’a gotten attached to having the babbling, cooing infant snuggled in his arms.

So, yeah, the brat _is_ kind of cute and Yondu-

The boy’s sudden, shrill cry brings him from his thoughts and he immediately knows what Kraglin had been talking about. It would be weeks before he could hear right again.

“A’ight, kid, what the hell is yer deal?” He asks the wailing baby. Then he hears it, barely audible over the screeching there’s a little rumble. 

“Hey Krags, what the hell d’babies eat? Tyke’s hungry.”

“No clue, Cap’n. I can try t’find some info in the databases, but I dunno if there’ll be anythin’ on Terrans.”

“See what y’can find, kid. I’ll take’em to the mess an’ see what I can scrounge up.”

\---

It takes the last of their stock in powdered milk, an awkward burping (which would’ve been less awkward if the information they’d found on Terran babies actually told him _how_ to burp the kid), a half-hour-long diaper change (with Kraglin reading step-by-step instructions), and a good ten minutes of Yondu praying to whatever Celestials still existed for the kid to go to sleep, before Yondu could finally relax.

He flopped back onto his bed and stared at the makeshift crib a few of the crew had created. It wasn’t the best lookin’ thing, but it was near to it.

Yondu sighed deeply, willing his aching joints to shut up for a second so he could get some shuteye before Peter woke up.

Maybe taking in the kid was a mistake, if this is what it was going to be like for the next however-many years until Peter was self-sufficient. Sure, he could force Kraglin on babysitting duty, but it would take away a lot of respect the teenager had earned. 

It was bad enough Yondu was hearing whispers he was going soft. No crew respected a soft captain, no matter what the reasons. But like hell he was gonna give the kid to his dad, though, seein’ as the guy’s a jackass and Yondu don’t trust’em an inch.

But he’s stuck in the dilemma of what to even do with the tiny toddler.

Said toddler gives a garbled wailing sound and Yondu’s at his makeshift crib in an instant (though how he moved across the room so fast is a mystery even to him). He doesn’t even think before lifting the boy out of his crib and the boy goes quiet as he’s tucked into Yondu’s arms.

“There y’are, lad. No more tears, yeah?” Little hands grasp at Yondu’s face as he leans down, making Peter go cross-eyed. “Yer a Ravager now, kid, an’ Ravagers don’t cry, y’hear?”

Peter gurgles happily and pulls on Yondu’s nose.

“We gotta teach y’some respect, kid. Can’t go ‘round pullin’ on yer captain in front’a the crew.”

Peter responds with another yank strong enough to make Yondu wince.

“We’ll work on it later, I’m guessin’.” He says with a chuckle. “At least we know y’got a strong grip, kiddo.” Peter giggles and reaches for Yondu again, but he’s far enough away that the toddler ends up smacking at his chin.

“Think yer hot shit, huh? Beatin’ up on yer captain’s grounds for gettin’ spaced, ya cute little asshole.”

“Told ya he was cute, Cap’n.” 

“I’m gonna start makin’ you wear a damn signal or somethin’.” Yondu growls, trying to look as though the Xandarian hadn’t nearly driven him to a heart attack. 

“I’ve been standing here for a while.” Kraglin grins smugly and Yondu _really_ wants to throw something at him.

“What’d y’want?”

“Horuz was suggestin’ we leave the kid on a Nova outpost.” 

“You punch’im?”

“Yessir.”

“Yer promoted.”

“I’m First Mate.”

“We’ll figure somethin’ out.” Yondu shrugs as Kraglin walks over to him. 

“So what _are_ we doin’ with’im?” He says, letting out a quiet _‘aww’_ as Peter yawns. 

“No clue. Figure we just tell the crew he’s mine.” Yondu holds back a sigh because, honestly, he's got no clue what to do with a baby. Closest thing he'd gotten to raising a kid was Kraglin, and even then he'd been able to skip right to the teenhood portion of parenting (which was slightly awkward given Yondu had never given 'the talk' to anyone before).

“Won’t add up.”

“Don’t matter.” Yondu says distractedly. He’s only half paying attention to Kraglin, really, since at some point Peter’d fallen asleep and was now softly (and adorably) snoring. 

“They’ll wonder why we went an’ got’em.”

“Ain’t none’a their business.” Yondu tries to peel the tiny fingers off his jacket, but when Peter starts to scrunch up his face he stops. He’s not sure how comfortable the kid is, but Peter’s obviously comfortable enough (or tired enough) to sleep against the stiff leather.

“Bein’ the Captain’s son’ll leave’em a target.”

“Over my dead body.”

“S’what I’m gettin’ at.” Kraglin raises his hands in surrender as Yondu levels him with a glare. “Just sayin’ my peace, Cap’n.”

“Y’ve said it, now call the crew. I’d rather get this shit over with while they’re still shit-faced.” Honestly, right now all Yondu wants to do is pass out in his bed, but he knows he’s gotta tell the crew sooner or later (and _sooner_ implies _drunker_ , which is always the best time to break any kind of news).

The meeting goes as well as it can. There’s bitching and moaning from the crew, who are less excited than before about having the baby on board now they know they’re stuck with him, but a short whistle quiets them down real quick. 

Somehow Peter sleeps through the whole thing (something Yondu hopes will be a regular thing, seeing as how the _Eclector_ isn’t a quiet vessel).

For the next two months there’s a bet going on how long Yondu’ll keep the kid (since even their captain seems to be reaching the end of his tether with the crying and constant scramble to keep the kid safe when he finally starts learning to walk), but Yondu just takes it to mean they’re starting to accept the newest addition.

And, three months later, everyone realizes just how attached Yondu is to the kid when he bursts into the mess hall, a huge grin on his face as he tells his crew they’re going planet-side to celebrate. 

Peter’s just said his first word: _Asshole_.


	7. Christmas

As soon as Yondu makes his way back onto the _Eclector_ , he knows something is up. If asked, he wouldn't be able to tell you exactly _how_ or _why_ , but he just knows.

He makes his way to the mess hall, cautiously wary of the suspiciously empty halls. 

There’s a routine when Yondu comes back from a planetside errand, as rare as those were.

The crew would busy themselves with whatever work they’d put off while he was away, Kraglin would appear from wherever he was lurking and would give a report that Yondu would (mostly) ignore, and Peter would shove his hands into Yondu’s pockets, searching for any new trinket or doo-dad the Centaurian might have gotten him.

So when Kraglin and Peter don’t show, his confusion (and concern) only grows.

To have everything this quiet puts Yondu on edge. His ship is never this quiet, especially since they’d nabbed Peter.

Yondu finds out, the moment he steps foot in the mess hall, why no one bothered to see him back. And, honestly, he should have expected some kind of chaos in his absence, but this was a bit much.

The entire mess had been shifted. The tables are shoved against the far wall, the floor’s been cleaned of its usual debris and filth, and there’s the smell of what Peter called _cookies_ wafting around the room. 

And, standing smack dead in the middle of the room, is an enormous (and half-dead by the look of it) tree, leaning under the weight of the decorations that had already been placed on it. 

The crew is seated on the floor, each stringing together bits of metal and old leather, making them look like over-grown grandmothers knitting sweaters, surrounded by hastily wrapped boxes. 

Yondu could see blunted and broken knives, old blasters, some weird bits of metal badly shaped into uneven (and sometimes not even fully formed) red painted orbs. At the very top of the tree was one of Yondu’s favorite knick knacks, tied tightly with thick green thread.

He remembers Peter bleating on about something called ‘Christmas’, and how upset he’d been that no such thing existed outside of Terra. Yondu also remembers Kraglin silently scheming and disappearing from time to time only to come back hours later with a happy little grin on his face.

It seems the rest of the crew is in on Kraglin and Peter’s little scheme too, judging by the fact they’re happily, and willingly, going about creating some of the ugliest ornaments they could for the kid’s damn tree.

Yondu isn’t sure if he should be impressed or pissed off at the dedication his crew was showing for a Terran celebration. 

On one hand, he’s glad he wouldn’t have to hear the kid bitching about his lack of Christmas; but on the other, he’s annoyed to pieces that his crew never show this much attention and fortitude towards their actual jobs.

“Hi Yondu! Isn’t it great?” Peter calls across the room, pointing a red covered finger at the tree. Yondu realizes that both Peter and Kraglin (as well as a good portion of the crew) are covered in red paint. 

That’s going to be a bitch to clean up, but that’s what his First Mate and kind-of-adopted Terran are there for. After all, Yondu decides, it was all their idea and he wasn’t going to punish the crew for their stupidity.

“What the hell is all this shit?” He demands (though there’s not nearly as much heat behind it as he intended). 

He tries to channel as much irritation as he can, but judging by the shit-eating grins on Kraglin and Peter’s faces (and an only _slightly_ cautious look from the crew), he knows he’s failed.

“It’s a tree, Cap’n.” Kraglin says with a smirk as he wraps a string of emergency lights around the tree. “Gotta get in the...what was it Pete?”

“Festive mood.” Peter supplies with a hand full of the crew’s warped ornaments.

“Yeah, that.”

The crew around them nod almost solemnly, like what they were doing was some sort of rite of passage or religious leading and not some weird Terran thing Peter roped them into doing.

“We're going to decorate the ship!” Peter pipes up. There are a few audible groans from the crew, but that doesn’t seem to deter the kid’s face-breaking smile. 

The kid’s already got his crew slacking off, now he wants to make it worse by bringing this shit into the rest of the ship? Not on Yondu’s life.

“Sure about that, are we?” Yondu says, crossing his arms to try and make himself a little more intimidating. 

“Yeah, it’ll be great!” Kraglin says. There’s a bit of childlike glee hidden in the First Mate’s tone, and Yondu knows he’s been in the sauce. Probably why he agreed to this whole thing in the first place. “Pete and I talked ‘bout it - well, he mostly talked, a’course, but the whole thing sounds pretty fun.”

“It’s all about family and stuff, Yondu. An’ you always say the crew is family.” Peter adds with a hopeful look that makes Yondu nearly buckle right then and there. 

Yondu knows neither would force him to do it. Try and talk him into it or plead with him, yes; but never truly force him. Ultimately, they know the final decision is his. 

He _could_ say he wanted no part in any of their madness and go lock himself away in his quarters after giving them orders to clean it up, but a part of him knew he’d feel guilty for taking away this weird Terran thing from Peter. And, maybe, the crew _did_ deserve a bit of a break, since they’d been running non-stop missions for the past month.

Plus, he kind’a liked seeing Peter so excited and animated. The kid’d been bored stiff due to the fact he wasn’t skilled (or old) enough to join in on missions, and had been looking decidedly more despondent with nothing but chores to do.

But they probably expect him to be deliberately difficult, though, so Yondu has to at least pretend to be pissed about it for the sake of his dignity.

“An’ I don’t get no say in this? Y’ realize _I’m_ the Captain of this damn ship.”

“Come on, Cap’n!” It never ceases to amaze Yondu just how childishly his First Mate could whine. “Nothin’ wrong with a little, well, a lot of, uh...what’s it called, Pete?”

“Holiday Cheer.”

“Right, that. Don't be a...um...”

“Grinch.” Peter supplies helpfully, causing the Centaurian to turn his half-hearted glare at him. “Don't be a Grinch, Yondu.”

Yondu’s not sure what a _Grinch_ is (and he’s not sure he wants to know), but he knows he’s got no hope of winning against the two, not with those pleading puppy-eyed stares focused on him from nearly every angle. 

“Fine. But I ain’t cleanin’ this shit up, that’s on you two.” He huffs half-heartedly as he stalks into the room.

Never let it be said that Yondu Udonta couldn't pick his battles. 

“Aw, that ain’t fair, Yondu! We’re trying to be nice here.” Peter belly-aches. He’s back to smiling a second later, so he’s clearly not too upset over the matter, Yondu reckons. 

Yondu expertly ignores him and grabs a few baubles to put on the tree (which is leaning a bit more precariously so he makes sure to place some of the heavier ornaments strategically to help stabilize it).

He finds himself enjoying it all, surprisingly. 

With Peter trying to teach Kraglin Christmas songs (which is later helped by them finding a Terran station on the long-scan transmitter), the crew bickering over who made the best decorations, and the oddly homey feel said decorations give off, the ship feels somehow less suffocating.

Yondu smiles as Peter throws a lopsided ornament at Kraglin for messing up one of his little songs.

“You can’t just replace the names of Santa’s reindeer with crew members.” The kid yells. 

“I can if I wanna.” Kraglin sing-songs back.

Maybe the kid’s right, Yondu thinks. Maybe this Christmas thing ain’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas (or whatever it is you celebrate) y'all~


	8. Nabbed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd be posting once I had *every* prompt done, but then I realized how long it'd been since I updated this fic (and I humbly apologize for that). I've got two more after this ready to be posted. It'll be a week between them and not a month or four. Promise.

Nobody’s stupid enough to grab a kid wearing a Ravager coat, it’s a universal rule. You don’t fuck with Ravagers or anyone wearing their flames. 

That’s what Yondu tells him. Right after the fact he’s going to be babysitting Peter while they’re on Knowhere. Of course, the conversation was more like “lose my boy and you’ll be losing a few limbs”, but Kraglin was only half listening anyway.

The kid’s ten and has the body mass of a twig with no jacket to fit him, so Kraglin tosses his own jacket at Peter, dons his old tattered poncho (as he’s far too lazy to run to the lockers to grab a spare jacket), and sets off to the hangar with the kid yammering on about how _fun_ and _exciting_ it’s going to be.

It’s Peter’s first time off the ship in a year, so he’s got reason to be excited, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to be any less of a headache.

The crew’s gathered in the hangar, mostly just shifting around like excited little children wanting to go play in the mud or talking amongst themselves- or to themselves. 

Kraglin ignores them and grabs Peter by the back of his jacket so he can pull him through the crowd until they’re standing at the front.

“Now that everyone’s here, let’s get this little meeting over and done with.” Yondu calls over the grumbling of the crew. “Same rules as usual. No killin’, no thievin’, an’ no fightin’ ‘less the bastard deserved it. Understood?”

Yondu gives his speech (the same one everybody’s heard a thousand times over, but still has to suffer through), going on about where to go, what to say, yadda yadda yadda.

After a bit, Peter gets bored and starts digging around in the jacket. Kraglin doesn’t think there’s much of anything in there, but Ravager jackets tend to have a lot of damn pockets, so Peter’s got a lot to go through.

He nudges the kid to get him to pay attention, but Peter just scoots out of respectable elbowing distance and continues to root around. 

Eventually, he pulls out a half wrapped food bar that’s _supposed_ to be brown but has, somewhere along the time it spent in the confines of Kraglin’s jacket, turned an off yellow.

Peter wrinkles his nose and turns to Kraglin.

“That’s gross, man.” He says, showing off the overly expired bit of food.

“Wondered where that went.” Kraglin responds, grabbing the bar. 

Kraglin’s known Peter for nearly three years now, and has encyclopedic knowledge of just what gets under the boy’s skin. So, with a crooked grin, he eats the bar while Peter stares at him in horror. 

It tastes like shit, but after a lifetime of eating whatever the cook’s dredged up in the mess, it doesn’t really bother him.

Peter’s steadily turning green. Kraglin counts it as a win.

\---

Knowhere is just as noisy, smelly and gross as Kraglin remembers. Well, probably a little more gross, what with an outbreak of some kind of flu, which thankfully, Peter’d been vaccinated on order from Yondu. So Kraglin doesn’t have to worry about the kid keeling over.

Peter runs ahead, darting between vendors and junk stalls, while Kraglin hangs back to keep a watchful eye out for any kind of danger.

He doesn’t really have to worry, though. Kid’s in Ravager colors, flame and all, and has Kraglin following after him, armed to the teeth and ready to prove it.

Worst they’d get is some drunken asshole trying to paw at one or both of’em (because Knowhere don’t give a shit if you were under legal age or not) before running off with his tail between his legs after spotting several of Kraglin’s favorite knives.

Nobody’s stupid enough to grab a kid or fuck with anyone wearing a Ravager jacket. But that rule don’t apply to whoever happens to be walking with said kid and isn’t wearing colors.

Kraglin finds this out the hard way. 

\---

He wakes up to a pounding head and a weird ache between his shoulder blades, and if he were on the _Eclector_ , Kraglin would just call that a rough night of drinking. But he’s not on the ship; he’s tied to a chair in some hollowed out building with flat stone walls and an annoying, far-off drip.

Perfect. He’d been kidnapped.

Wouldn’t be the first time (being First Mate had its perks), but this was the first anyone had taken him while he was looking after Peter, and that spells disaster. 

He doesn’t see Peter anywhere around him, so either these people know not to grab a Ravager kid, or they had taken Peter and were keeping him in another room. 

Either way, Kraglin knows he has to get out and do it quick because Peter’s alone on Knowhere and either hurt or in danger. 

Or both, knowing him.

Kraglin tries to move, but nothing gives so he just shrugs his shoulders and awaits whoever’s kidnapped him this time.

“Ah, I see our new friend is awake.” The man’s tall (almost _too_ tall, if you ask Kraglin) and looks like someone dumped a barrel full of oil on him. Kind of smells like it, too.

“Where’s the kid?” Kraglin blurts out.

“What kid?”

“Great.” Yondu’s going to skin him (or, well, tear off his limbs) because he’s either A: Lost Peter, or B: Gotten Peter killed by not being there to defend his dumb Terran ass. “Could ya just kill me now? I mean, my captain’s gonna do it anyway, so might as well get it over with, right?”

Greasy man looks at him like he’s gone insane. He stumbles for a bit, seemingly at a loss for words before stuttering out a response.

“We’re going to kill you all right, but not before we get some inform-” Greasy-man cuts off, whimpers a bit, then falls flat to Kraglin’s feet. There’s a single bloody hole in his back.

On the other side of the room stands Peter, holding a blaster in both hands. 

Kraglin’s not sure how he hit the guy with that kind of stance or how the hell the kid actually found him in a place the size of Knowhere, but he’s not about to look a gift Flerken in the mouth (not that _anyone_ should look one in the mouth, because that’s just scary as hell).

Peter shakily lowers his gun, wide-eyed gaze twitching between the dead body and Kraglin’s stunned face.

“Yondu doesn’t find out about _any_ of this.” Kraglin says after a moment.

Peter nods, “Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A Flerken resembles Earth cats in appearance and behavior, can lay up to 117 eggs and have pocket dimensions in their mouth. (info via the Marvel Wiki). That is why you should never look a gift Flerken in the mouth, kiddies.


	9. Safe

The collar around his neck buzzes and beeps to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Peter’s not sure if it’s intentional or not, but it’s maddening. 

He wants to cry or scream or move or _anything_ but he can’t. The collar’s hooked into his spine and any time he so much as breathes too hard, it sends an electric pulse straight to his brain. 

He nearly passed out last time, he’s not willing to risk it again.

Peter doesn’t why these men took him, and he can’t decide if he should be worried or scared or both or…

No. Yondu will find him. 

He’ll find Peter and take him back to the _Eclector_ and rant and rave about how much Peter fucked up in getting caught in the middle of a fight. He’ll put Peter on vent duty for a few weeks so he can pay him back for wasted fuel (or even just dock whatever Peter owes from the units he earns).

Peter’s not sure, after this, if he’d ever want to go back in the vents again.

\---

They drag him out of his cell somewhere around the third day. He puts up a brave front, but it doesn’t last long. 

Eventually, he learns to fear the sound of footsteps and muffled conversation outside the cell door, stops acting fearless at the sight of their hands grabbing for him. He screams and cries and begs, but he learns that makes the torture sessions that much more painful and long.

They break him, mentally and physically, to the point of obedience. 

When the door opens, he stands at attention. When the men grab him, he lets them pull him through the maze of empty hallways. When they want him to scream or beg or cry, he does. 

He learns when he’s quiet and submissive, they let him eat and sleep and breathe. So he learns to live for the next meal, the next dream, the next breath.

\---

One day, he’s brought out of his cell and shoved into a tiny room with a single chair in the center and two men arguing over a tray of surgical instruments. The guards leave and the slamming of the door finally alerts the men of Peter’s presence.

He’s obediently quiet and pliant as they pull him over and strap him into the chair. This is new and different and Peter doesn’t really know what to do. 

One wants to carve a message into Peter’s skin and send his corpse back, the other wants information.

“He has the information we need.” The ugly one says with an abundance of spittle. Peter finds himself watching the man’s mouth, wondering how someone could have green teeth. 

Even the most unhygienic of the _Eclector’s_ crew didn’t have green teeth.

“How do we know that? He’s a damn kid, ain’t nobody gonna tell him secrets.” 

Peter knows _plenty_ of secrets, including a few of Yondu’s (like how the Centaurian loves to snuggle, or can’t drink cold booze because it gives him indigestion, or how he likes to secretly give presents to his crew for their birthdays).

“We don’t need _secrets_ , we need to know where Udonta’s ship is and a bargaining chip. We got one of those.” Ugly points at him, long crooked fingernail nearly jabbing him in the cheek. He wants to recoil from the black nail, but he’s too tightly strapped in.

Another hour of back-and-forth bickering, and the two come to a unanimous decision. They turn to him in unison.

“Where is Yondu Udonta?” Ugly asks suddenly.

“I don’t know.” The electricity pounding through his veins is so powerful he can’t even scream.

“Where is Udonta?” They ask the moment Peter stops seizing.

“I swear, I don’t-” Peter doesn’t even get to finish before he’s electrocuted again. There’s an angry conversation behind him, but his ears are ringing and whatever they’re saying is muffled behind the lingering charge in his brain.

“ _Where is Udonta_?” 

“On his ship.” Another shock.

“Where’s his ship?” Ugly yells. 

“In space.” Peter’s desperate to appease them, not wanting to get shocked again, but he _doesn’t know_ where Yondu or the _Eclector_ are.

“Either he doesn’t know anything or he’s too stupid.” One of them grumbles. 

“We’re not going to get anywhere by letting the brat rest. He’s just playing dumb, shock him again and let’s keep going.”

“Fine, but if he croaks, it’s on you.” Peter wants to argue that he should have a say in this whole thing, but his tongue is _really_ heavy right now and he can’t seem to keep his head from rolling back.

The next shock that comes feels more like a tingle than a full-on surge of electricity. 

It kind of reminds him of the time he’d touched a frayed wire out of curiosity. Yondu hadn’t let him live it down, laughing like a lunatic the whole time Peter (seven at the time) cried and bitched about it.

Of course, Yondu had spent three hours afterwards yelling at the engine crew for leaving dangerous shit uncovered. Peter liked to pretend it was Yondu being secretly pissed off he got hurt, but he knows that wasn’t the case.

The next few hours are hazy as Peter drifts in and out of consciousness. They ask where Yondu is, Peter tells them a mix of ‘I don’t know’ and ‘on his ship’ before he’s shocked again, and the cycle repeats. 

Peter’s sure this goes on for days. 

One minute he’s waking up in his cell, metal walls closing in on him as he awaits whatever is about to happen, the next he’s in the chair and he doubts they’re wasting time by putting him in his cell every few hours.

With his collar, it had been easy to tell time. 

One beep per heartbeat. 

Approximately seventy two heartbeats a minute. 

Four thousand-eight hundred beats in a day, Twenty eight thousand-eight hundred in a week. 

He’d been alone in a silent, black cell for a week, counting his heartbeats (though he’s sure he’d skipped a few), trying to keep sane enough to face whatever these people had in store for him. He kept count through sleepless nights so even if he fell asleep, he could still be on track.

But now he doesn’t have the collar. He doesn’t have the beeps to keep track of time or the random zaps to keep him from moving too much or breathing too deep. 

Time was random now; a blur one moment, the next a slow crawl.

Peter was going insane, he just knew it.

\---

“Where’s Udonta?”

Peter rolls his head to the side and smiles languidly, “On his ship.”

“Where is his ship?” He wants to say ‘in space’, but he’s too tired so he just shrugs as good as he can with the straps over his chest.

“Depends.” 

“On what?” There’s a few seconds of silence in which Peter doesn’t answer, so they shock him again. His back pops several times with the force of his body jerking off the table and it kind of feels like something’s broken, but Peter can’t feel the pain through the fog in his head.

“Depends on _what_?”

Peter takes a deep, wheezing breath, “Whether or not he’s moved.” 

“Where does he frequent?”

“Macadelly’s. On Knowhere.” Peter laughs weakly, “Best hooker house in the galaxy, s’what he says.”

“What is the transmission code for his ship?”

“1-9-8-0...no, 1-0-9-8. Ignore that first one, that’s the year I was born.” Peter rambles on about every birthday he can remember and his abduction and his mother, but they’re no longer paying any attention to him. 

For the first time since they started interrogating him, Peter doesn’t get electrocuted for his answer.

\---

Peter slowly and painfully swims back into consciousness to the sound of voices. He can’t place them, but part of him recognizes them as safe. It’s probably just a dream, but it’s nice to hear something familiar.

“He’ll be ready for work again in a week or so, Captain.”

“Like hell he is, doc. Kid’s not working until I say he can.”

“The crew isn’t going to like that, sir. They’re already wondering-”

“Let’em wonder what they like. My boy nearly died in that shithole and the minute I start listening to the crew’s whining is the minute I step down as captain.”

“Your boy? Captain-” There’s a thud somewhere to Peter’s right.

“You questioning me, Marr? Kid’s mine, end of sentence. No one’s gotta like it, no one’s gotta accept it. And besides which I ain’t answer to none’a you louts. So when I say he’s my kid, I mean he’s as good as.”

Peter’s unconscious before Marr can answer. 

\---

His body tenses, fingers curling themselves like claws as he suffers through the searing pain of electricity burning through his veins. 

There’s a voice chanting ‘ _it ain’t real, son, it ain’t real_ ’ in his ear and he wants to believe it, but there’s so much pain. There’s someone screaming, someone too close and at the same time too far away.

Whoever is holding him grasps him a little tighter and though it should remind him of those thick straps they’d put around him, it’s oddly comforting. 

Peter opens his eyes and the screaming stops. It’s only after he gulps down a lungful of air that he realizes it was him screaming.

He’s surrounded by blue and red and it’s confusing until the person speaks again.

“That’s right, Pete, breathe. In an’ out jus’ like that.” 

_Yondu_. The voice is Yondu and this can’t be a dream because Peter _remembers_ opening his eyes. 

“You good now?” Yondu asks with a concerning amount of worry.

“I don’t know.” Peter responds automatically, flinching when he expects the shock to come. 

“That’s alright, kid. Ain’t gotta worry about knowin’ somethin’ until y’got your wits to ya.” Yondu’s voice vibrates against Peter’s ear, which means Peter’s resting against his chest.

Peter can feel Yondu’s legs crossed beneath his own, can feel the slight chill his body gives off to compensate for Peter’s overwhelming body heat as his fever carries on.

He’s sitting in Yondu’s lap.

Yondu’s _holding_ him. 

It can’t be real, none of this can, because the _real_ Yondu doesn’t do this kind of thing. The _real_ Yondu wouldn’t hold him like this or comfort him and that means…

Peter starts to hyperventilate. 

“You’re not real,” Peter chants, fingers grasping at Yondu’s cracked and frayed jacket. The leather’s warm and each crack pokes at his fingers, but he’s numb to it. 

All he can feel is a buildup of static and the cold metal of his cell.

“Y’gotta _breathe_ , Pete.” Yondu orders, a deep wrinkle set between his eyebrows. 

“Your not him, you’re not...can’t be...” Peter gasps out. The edges of his vision are going black, but he can’t get in a breath deep enough to satisfy his body’s need for oxygen.

There’s a large, cool hand dragging his clenched fist from Yondu’s jacket, and a brief squeeze to uncurl his fingers before Peter’s hand is pulled under the red blur the jacket has become. 

“Y’feel that?” Yondu asks, voice cracking. Peter can feel thumping, heavy and fast and _real_ , under his hand. “That’s real, son.” 

Yondu’s voice is soft, laced with concern so deep Peter thinks the captain may actually be close to tears. But...Ravagers don’t cry.

“Your right, they don’t. But I got a special right to, just don’t spread it around.” Peter can feel the chuckle against his face and palm. His breathing slowly evens out until his vision clears and his head feels heavy.

“Get some rest, son.” Yondu says, using the same hand that had held Peter’s to smooth down the boy’s hair. “Yer safe.”

Peter focuses on the rhythm of Yondu’s heart as it calms down to a slow beat, the light tug of Yondu’s fingers through his hair, the rumble of the ship beneath them, and sleeps.

He's safe.

\---

No one’s allowed to talk about what happened after the mercenaries contacted Yondu, though it was something every crew member in the raid party bragged about in secret. 

Peter hears some of what happened, but he sleeps too much to differentiate between what he’d heard in dreams and what he’d actually heard from the scattered retellings of the crew.

Yondu tells him not to worry about it because it doesn’t matter what happened. All that matters, he says, is that Peter’s alive and in one piece.

Peter gradually gets better. The random flashbacks and tremors have faded, and the nightmares are more about what _could_ have happened instead of what _did_. 

It takes him far too long to get used to the sound of footsteps in empty halls and muffled conversations through walls or doors, and he still catches himself freezing in place and waiting until it’s quiet again. 

Tulk, Kraglin, and Oblo notice the random freezes and get word around to the rest of the crew. 

After that, The _Eclector_ gets a little noisier. 

People start whistling while they walk or make their footsteps and voices a little louder than normal (Yondu hates it, but he’s not about to say anything when he realizes it’s helping Peter recover), making sure Peter knows they’re there. 

After a while, Yondu loosens the reins on Peter’s lockdown, letting him join the crew for a meal or two, giving him an hour out of his private quarters to help with small jobs around the ship, and even just letting him wander around unsupervised (though Peter knows Kraglin’s around keeping watch).

It helps ease Peter back into a feeling of security.

The scars and nightmares are still there, though they’ll fade with time, but Peter’s home, surrounded by friends (and kind-of family), and he’s healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the over-use of the word 'real'. I honestly didn't know I'd used it so much until I was editing it for post XD


	10. Safe: Fight Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for tangerinee, who asked for the deleted fight scene from Safe~ Be warned, it's only slightly edited. Contains a bit of gore and a lot of violence.

Yondu was beyond pissed.

Firstly, because the trade deal on Augree went south, leaving him with sixty dead crew members and a lot more busted up.

Secondly, because some band of mercs decided it was a brilliant fucking idea to nab _his_ Terran in the middle of the fight.

And thirdly, because said mercenaries had the _balls_ to signal the _Eclector_ and demand he hands himself and his ship over to them so they can rake in their bounty. 

“We have your brat, Udonta.” The ugly one sneers, spittle visible even through the shitty connection. “If you don’t want him cooked alive, you’ll turn yourself over.” 

Then Ugly turns the camera and there’s Peter, strapped down on a metal chair looking as though he’d gone ten rounds with the universe and lost. There’s another man standing at Peter’s side, grinning and giggling like a madman.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, shitstain, but you just made the biggest mistake of yer goddamn existence.”

“I am Lezaal Unglin, leader of the strongest group of mercenaries the galaxy has ever seen.” Ugly crows, like his name alone should strike fear into the Ravagers’ hearts.

Yondu’s heard of Lezaal, alright, just not enough to even make him consider the man any kind of threat.

When there’s no shock or awe from the Ravagers, Lezaal’s smile slips from his face.

“You have ten minutes to disembark your ship and give yourselves over peacefully, or the boy learns how you cook meat from the inside out.” The transmission ends with another unfortunate view of Lezaal’s teeth. 

“We got a plan, Cap’n?”

“Aye. Kill their crew, waste the damn ship, save my boy.” Simple, easy to follow, and promising a lot of fun for his own crew. 

He wasn’t even going to waste his arrow on these men. They’d hurt his kid, and that was a one-way ticket to getting every bone in your body broken, ripped out, and fed to you.

\---

He almost feels guilty cutting down an army of simple mercenaries only because it feels like he’s slaughtering a group of fellow Ravagers. 

The same rules, the same regulations, even some of the same ports; and Yondu’s sure he’s seen a familiar face in the chaos more than once. He and his crew had drunken themselves into a stupor with some of these men, even fought beside them before. 

Hell, he probably even knew a few of their names.

But then he remembers Peter’s bruised and battered form sitting on that damn chair, and his sympathy goes out the proverbial window. These men knew what they were getting into when they stole Peter, and they would face the consequences.

Yondu knows Lezaal expected him to come quietly, but Yondu’s not too fond of that approach. Instead, he’d gathered a good two-hundred of his men and boarded Lezaal’s ship. 

They battle their way to the bridge, Yondu’s arrow cleaving a path through every mercenary that gets in his way. The sound of screams echo through the ship along with a cacophony of battle cries and gun fire as the Ravagers thoroughly dismantle Lezaal’s crew. 

They reach the bridge, only to be stopped by the man they’d seen standing by Peter in the transmission. He opens his mouth, readying for some boring diatribe, but Kraglin cuts him down with a single slice to his throat and he drops heavily to the floor, his mouth still open as he gasps for air.

Yondu whistles his arrow through the control pad next to the door, watching in satisfaction as it opens with a loud clang and a few sparks. 

They burst in, Kraglin with his plethora of knives, and Yondu with a whistle waiting on his lips. They freeze, however, at the sight of Lezaal holding Peter against him, using the boy as a meat shield. 

There’s a red-stained knife at Peter’s throat, keeping him on his feet even though he looks as if he’s seconds from passing out then and there, his eyes glassy and far off and his skin pale underneath bruising and shallow cuts. 

Yondu feels as though his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He holds his breath, eyes darting between the knife and Peter’s face, and wills the Terran to stay standing. 

He knows if Peter so much as twitches wrong, the knife will slice through his jugular.

Lezaal smiles, an almost inaudible laugh making its way out of his green-toothed mouth as he clutches the boy tighter.

“So glad you could join us Udonta.” He sneers, wicked and grotesque, “are you going to come peacefully, or shall I show you the inner workings of your boy?”

Yondu doesn’t know what to do. If it had been some random crew member, he would’ve just run them through and been done with this whole mess (though if it had been someone other than Peter, they wouldn’t be here right now).

“Put the boy down an’ I’ll come quietly as y’please.” 

“Ha! You think you can get me with that? I know about your arrow, _Udonta_. Drop it and any other weapons you have on you.”

“Cap’n?” 

“Drop what y’got, Obfonteri.” He orders, eyes never leaving the sight before him. 

It doesn’t matter that Yondu’s forced to give up any means of weaponry. This fucker took and, by the sight of him, nearly _killed_ his kid and is now using him as a ransom piece.

Yondu doesn’t need his Yaka, or really any weapon, to kill this son of a bitch. He was going to take _extreme_ pleasure in beating this ugly fuck’s face into the floor.

Lezaal motions for the two guards at their back to check them. When they come up with nothing, Lezaal’s disgusting smile grows.

“Pitiful. I expected a bit more fight from you. Seems all those stories about the _fearless_ and _untouchable_ Yondu Udonta were just that. Stories.”

He shoves Peter to the floor beside him, placing Yondu’s arrow right under the boy’s cheek so that, even if he had the chance to, Yondu wouldn’t be able to use it without risk of hurting or even killing Peter.

Lezaal turns back to them, grinning like he’d won the fight.

Little does he know, the fight’s not even started.

“Take’em down to the cells. Don’t be afraid to use some force if necessary.” Lezaal says to his guards. The men grab Yondu and Kraglin in a headlock, preventing them from struggling.

But Yondu doesn't waste time struggling. 

He snaps his head back and rams his elbow into the guard’s stomach at the same time. The back of his skull smashes into the guard's nose, breaking it with a sound like a twig being snapped in half.

The man grunts in pain, and the chokehold loosens a little. Not much, but enough to allow him to take a burning breath. More importantly, the twin blows cause the guard to double over somewhat, putting some of his weight on Yondu’s back.

That's all he needs. It's an easy thing then to flip the man over his head and on down to the ground. For an agonizing second the arm around his throat pulls tighter, then the man crashes onto his back, and Yondu can breathe again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yondu sees Kraglin taking down the other guard in a similar fashion (though he goes the extra mile of punching the shit out of him before he lands, leaving bruises in the shape of his fists imprinted on the man’s face).

Lezaal’s grin drops into a scowl as he pulls out a knife.

“You think you can take me, Udonta?”

“I know I can, shitstain.” 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Lezaal takes a running stab at him. Yondu easily ducks out of the way and lands a punch to the back his head. Lezaal doesn’t go down, but he does stumble, leaving Kraglin an opening to kick the man in the stomach.

Lezaal hisses like a busted pipe, coughs once and is back into swinging his knife wildly around him.

He’s not a good fighter, not by a long shot, but he’s faster and harder to hurt. Fighter or not, however, the man’s got a knife and Yondu knows they’re not going to get out of this without a weapon as well.

Suddenly, Lezaal reaches into his jacket and pulls out a round object, throwing it to the ground. It shatters upon impact, releasing thick smoke into the room.

“Shit,” Yondu hears Kraglin mutter from somewhere to his right. 

Yondu ducks just in time to dodge the knife aimed at his head and rolls into the center of the smoke. 

It’s denser near the middle and, while it’s not easy to breathe in it, it’s the only place Yondu can try and formulate a plan in relative safety. 

If this bastard wants to use it as cover, then Yondu will too.

He hears Kraglin move, thin-soled boots making a light tap in comparison to both Yondu and Lezaal’s heavier soles, making it easier to trace the battle as it progresses without him.

There’s the sound of metal hitting metal and a shower of sparks a few feet in front of Yondu, along with grunts and curses from both Lezaal and Kraglin.

Kraglin’s used to this kind of fighting only because it’s so similar to his own techniques. Ever since he’d learned how to build smoke grenades and gas bombs, the First Mate’s motto was _‘blind your enemies then pulverize them’_.

The smoke starts to dissipate little by little, and soon Yondu’s able to see the fight between Kraglin and Lezaal.

It’s fucking _glorious_ to watch his First Mate in action, but Yondu can see Kraglin slowing down. His movements are less and less graceful, each move coming almost awkwardly, and soon it was all he could do to try and put some decent space between him and Lezaal.

Somehow, the Xandarian had gotten a hold of a long, thin metal pole and was using it as both jumping leverage and a crude javelin. 

He watches as Kraglin digs the pole into the metal grate under him, using it to swing himself into the air and landing a firm kick to Lezaal’s chest.

Yondu uses the moment to jump into the fray, his vision finally free of the thick smoke. He throws a punch at Lezaal while he’s distracted, but the man ducks a second before it lands and turns on Yondu.

Now Yondu’s on the move, dodging backwards from Lezaal’s swipes, narrowly missing a knife to the gut in the same moment he ducks back away from one that almost slices through his neck.

Lezaal pulls out a second knife from somewhere at his hip and starts swinging at them both with equal passion. He lands a hit on Kraglin, slicing through his jacket and forearm.

The cut’s not a deep one, but its very existence speaks volumes.

Lezaal jabs his elbow into Kraglin’s face and Yondu winces at the sharp crack of breaking bone and Kraglin’s sharp yelp. The Xandarian goes down and Yondu knows he’s seein’ stars after that hit.

The moment Kraglin drops, Lezaal’s back to fighting Yondu, his knives flashing in the low light of the cabin the only warning Yondu has to duck, weave, or jump away.

Lezaal kicks him square in the chest, knocking him to the floor, and suddenly Lezaal is on him, hands wrapped around his throat, his entire weight pressing into the attack.

Yondu’s vision starts to blur as Lezaal pushes against his windpipe.

“You think you can win, Udonta?” Lezaal laughs, disgusting smile and breath inches from Yondu’s face, “I’m going to _beat_ you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ll break you just as I broke your boy.”

There’s a flash of Peter’s smile, memories of teaching him how to fight because he’s gotta be tough if he’s going to survive out there in the universe. Yondu doesn’t want anything to happen to him and, by everything he holds dear, he hopes nothing does.

He remembers tucking Peter in after a fit of nightmares, the feeling of pride when Peter finally got the hang of using a blaster (and his fear when he realized that he couldn’t stop the boy from going on missions anymore, now that he had protection).

And he remembers the promise he’d made to himself, to keep Peter safe from everything he could. To raise the boy to survive in places no one else could, to keep that smile going and that strange, unshakable innocence intact. 

He sees Peter’s face-breaking smile when Yondu starts humming one of his dumb Terran songs. Yondu didn’t even notice what he’d been doing until Peter and Kraglin joined in, and by that point he’d already been caught so he just kept going.

He sees Peter’s excited face as Yondu praises him for learning to shoot, to fly, to rebuild and repair. 

Every smile, every laugh, every giggle, every ounce of adoration Peter bestowed upon him, he saw in a flash.

And this _wanna-be badass_ , this _shitstain_ , this _**nothing**_ was going to take that away from him.

Every ounce of adrenaline comes back with a deafening roar and Yondu sees red.

He rams his knee up as hard as he can, aiming for Lezaal’s unprotected side. It connects solidly, the momentum pushing Lezaal off Yondu and throwing him a good distance away. 

The movement turns him awkwardly, but it puts Yondu at eye-line with one of Lezaal’s discarded knives.

Lezaal tries to recover, but he’s wheezing. It’s enough of an opening for Yondu to grab the knife, jabbing it into the muscle of Lezaal’s back and twisting. 

There’s a metallic snap and Yondu realizes the blade has broken off against Lezaal’s bones.

Yondu ducks as Lezaal lets go a desperate swing that misses, his knuckles cracking loudly into the wall. Lezaal lets out a cry of rage, bringing his broken fingers against him, cradling them for a moment before setting his sights back on Yondu.

The Centaurian ducks back, picking up Lezaal’s second knife from the floor. He’s breathing heavily, and the black fuzz around his vision hasn’t yet cleared, but Yondu’s never felt more focused in his life.

This man hurt his kid, nearly _killed him_ in order to get a bounty. That alone fuels him forward. 

He growls, angry and determined and rushes at Lezaal.

 _“Don’t fight angry, boy,”_ He’d told Peter one day, _“it’ll make ya sloppy and easy to kill. Keep yer wits about ya.”_

He ignores his own advice. He has to be angry, has to be beyond pissed off at the man in front of him because that’s all he’s got right now. 

Yondu’s moves are sloppy and thoughtless, he knows this, but Lezaal’s sloppier and Yondu has his fury at his back keeping him steady and fighting.

He’s going to show this _nothing_ that it’s a goddamn dangerous thing, stealing from Yondu Udonta, that _you don’t touch what belongs to Yondu Udonta_.

Because he’s fearless, unkillable, _untouchable_.

Yondu charges at Lezaal, delivering a fast, straight punch to his unprotected jaw. The blow sends his head back, all of his momentum snapping back on him like a broken rubber band as he falls to the ground.

He pounces, dropping the knife in lieu of keeping to his promise of making Lezaal’s face a part of the floor.

He beats Lezaal’s face until the man’s guttural screams and the cracking of his skull give way to flat crunches and the squelch of wet meat. He keeps punching the spot Lezaal’s face used to occupy until he feels the cold metal of the floor bite into his fingers. 

Then, and only then, does he stop and rise to his feet.

Yondu, breaths coming out in short, jagged puffs, stands tall and proud over the lifeless body of Lezaal, the anger and adrenaline still crawling inside of him refusing to let him put down his defenses.

“Cap’n?” 

Yondu suddenly rounds, turning his ferocious gaze to Kraglin, who cows away instantly at the look on his captain’s face.

It surprises Yondu for a moment. 

He’d never, in their years of working and travelling together, seen Kraglin actually scared of him.

Even when he’d ranted and raved and murdered crew for next to nothing, Kraglin had kept calm and unwavering.

But now, Kraglin’s gaze was darting from Yondu to the body at his feet, never lingering on either one too long, and it...worried him.

He frowns, “Y’alright there, Kraglin?”

Kraglin nods, wincing a bit at the pain in his broken cheek, and stands at the ready. Yondu feels a bite of pride at his perseverance. 

“Get yerself an’ Pete to the med bay. I’ll round up the crew and search for stragglers.” 

What Yondu _wants_ to do is rush over to Peter and make sure the boy’s still breathing, but right now he’s covered in Lezaal’s blood and the anger is still bubbling under the surface of his skin, so he leaves Peter to Kraglin. 

He’s got a bit more hunting to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, guys, I'm lookin' for a beta for this fic (as my usual beta, sunnyholmes, has gotten busy (and sick) af recently), so if you're interested hit me up! I'd prefer someone who's got a few fics under their belt, but as long as you're okay giving a bit of advice now and again and tellin' me whether somethin' sucks or not.  
> You can either shoot me a message on my tumblr ( ladyophera ) or leave a comment down below :D


	11. Sick

Peter’s sick and that’s the only reason the boy’s currently curled up in Yondu’s bed, occasionally snuggling up to Yondu when the fever turns him from hot to cold.

It’s not because Yondu’s worried or wants to keep a close eye on Peter in case something happens, or even because Yondu is secretly scared the kid will die if he’s not watched over and tended to. 

Because that would be ridiculous.

Peter lets out a pained moan and tries to sink further into the pillows, as if squishing them into the bed will help alleviate the new and sudden headache. Immediately, Yondu puts a hand to the boy’s forehead and frowns.

He’s gotten warmer, and that ain’t a good sign. 

Okay, so maybe Yondu’s a _little_ worried and a _little_ scared, but the doc said it was just a cold and Terran’s naturally get them. It’s just hitting Peter harder because on Terra they have _vaccines_ and _medicine_ and _vitamins_ , and in space there’s only booze to help stave off or cure whatever ails.

The only thing Yondu can do is read up on Terran illnesses and try to help the kid as much as he can by keepin’ Peter hydrated and balling him up in every spare blanket they have. 

Only problem is he’s a _Captain_ , which means he’s got a ship to run and even though he trusts Kraglin to run everything on the off occasion he’s not there, he doesn’t trust the crew to follow the First Mate’s rule indefinitely. 

He needs to run his ship so the crew don’t start getting mutiny on the brain, but he can’t leave Peter here by himself. 

He sure as shit ain’t askin’ one’a the crew to watch him either, because making one of them play nursemaid is a surefire way of gettin’ the kid killed.

So, after a bout of resigned grumbling, Yondu picks up the dozing boy and heads up to the bridge. He’s immediately cornered by the stares of his crew and is suddenly acutely aware of how he looks right now (with Peter’s cold nose tucked against his neck, it’s hard _not_ to be).

“Anyone still starin’ in five seconds is on vent duty for the rest of their damn life.” Yondu shouts to the gawkers. It sends them scurrying, but Peter whimpers quietly, his body tensing in Yondu’s grip. 

Poor kid’s got the mother of all headaches and here’s Yondu practically yelling in his ear. 

He ignores his crew and sits down as carefully as he can. He knows, from years of experience with his own headaches, Peter needs low light and quiet to be comfortable (and the more comfortable he is, Yondu hopes, the quicker he’ll get better).

Kraglin, the sneaky fucker, appears at Yondu’s side with a cup and holds it out towards the barely-conscious Peter.

“Whassat?” Yondu asks when Peter doesn’t move. The kid’s still suspicious of anything the crew tries to hand him, not that Yondu don’t blame though.

Peter’s got a damn good memory for grudges, especially since they drugged him to put the translator in his head.

“Water. Figure he’s got a headache t’ rival a hangover just by lookin’.” Now Yondu’s suspicious. They ain’t had clean water on the ship (other than personal stores) since before Yondu could remember. 

Kraglin grins, his ability to read his captain has him knowing what he’s thinking. 

“It’s been boiled, so it ain’t got nothin’ but whatever shit’s started floating in it since I been holdin’ the cup.” He says with a shrug. “Ain’t wantin’ to make’em sicker.”

Yondu scoffs out a laugh, but grabs the cup and holds it in front of Peter to take. The poor kid cracks open his eyes slowly only to slam them shut a second later with a groan. 

“C’mon, Petey, y’ll feel better in no time if y’drink somethin’.” Yondu encourages. He knows Peter just wants to sleep, but Kraglin’s right about him needing some liquids in him.

Peter blindly reaches out for the cup, eyes still tightly shut against the already dim lights, and wastes no time gulping down the water so fast Yondu’s afraid he’s about to choke. 

“I should’ve got somethin’ bigger.” Kraglin mumbles as he retrieves the cup. “Like a damn bucket.”

Peter glares at him, but is cut off from saying anything by a fit of heavy coughs. 

“Just get’im s’more water an’ cut the belly-achin’, Kraggles.” 

Kid keeps bringing up lung-busters throughout the day, leaving most of the crew annoyed and complaining of headaches. Yondu tells them they can either deal with it or get an arrow through their faces and they shut up.

Peter refuses to eat anything, but he drinks down water like a busted radiator and keeps falling asleep on anything he can find so Yondu chalks it up to his illness running its course and ties down the urge to flit about the boy like a mother hen.

\---

That night, Yondu smothers Peter in blankets and decides, since he can’t sleep without worrying about the boy, to read through the information he’d found on Terrans. 

Halfway through re-reading the section on ear infections, Peter makes a low mewling noise and shifts around so he’s smushed up against Yondu’s side.

“Yondu?” Peter calls, his voice muffled by both the mound of blankets and Yondu’s shirt.

“Yeah?”

“‘M hungry.” Yondu wants to tell the kid to he ain’t his nanny, but then he gets a look at Peter’s sweaty, flushed face and feels the annoyance leave him in an instant.

“A’ight, kid. Let’s get’chu some food.”

\---

The mess is filled with a few stragglers left over from the night crew’s breakfast, but none of them pay the two any mind. Half of them are barely awake to the point they’re drifting off into their coffee. The other half, Yondu suspects, are just putting off their rounds until they absolutely have to do something.

They’ve all just woken up less than twenty minutes ago, so Yondu doesn’t start barking out orders at them. Instead, he sets Peter down on the bench and gets him a freshly made bowl of mashed Kopa Root stew. 

The smell seems to wake Peter up a little, and he immediately starts to dig in. While he eats, Yondu lets himself get lost in thought. 

He makes lists of parts they need, ships to repair, maintenance to be done, and the like. It’s only when the sounds of Peter eating stop that Yondu shakes himself out of his thoughts and turns to the boy.

Peter’s falling asleep slowly, the spoon slipping little by little from his lax grip. His bowl is only half empty, but it’s good enough for Yondu.

“C’mon, Pete, time to get some shut-eye.” He says, lifting the boy into his arms once again. He doesn’t bother cleaning up, knowing one of the stragglers will see it and finish whatever’s left over.

Yondu can’t really remember the last time he’d walked the _Eclector_ ’s halls this late at night. 

It’s oddly peaceful with the dimmed lights, the lack of an echo from hundreds of heavy soled boots pacing up and down, and the absence of the claustrophobic squish of bodies as the crew go about their duties.

Peter yawns loudly against his shoulder and Yondu finds himself following suit a second later. Now that he knows Peter’s not going to starve to death or whatever in his sleep, he can get some rest too.

“Y’good, Pete?” Yondu asks as he tucks the boy in.

Peter nods and lets out a little hum as he’s swaddled back up in the blankets.

“G’night, dad.” He yawns again and, a moment later, is out like a light.

Yondu knows the kid’s delirious as hell and more than likely won’t remember calling him _Dad_ , but Yondu can’t help smiling at the odd little skip his heart does when he hears it.

“G’night, son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too happy with how this one turned out, but it's been sitting in my Docs since I started taking prompts so I figured I had to finish it. Hopefully you guys enjoyed the obligatory sick fic~


	12. Imprinting

When Peter’s brought aboard the Eclector, Yondu’s adamant he’s nowhere near the kid at any given time.

“Terrans are backwater as hell, Krags, ain’t no tellin’ if their youngun’s have some kind’a imprinting thing goin’ on.” So Peter’s kept away from the main parts of the ship. 

Kraglin tells the boy it’s for his own safety, but, even scared shitless, Peter doesn’t have a thought towards anything safe. He wants to explore and touch and figure out everything he can get his hands on.

Which is how he runs into Yondu.

“The hell you doin’, boy?” Peter jumps at the sound of Yondu’s gruff voice and turns to look at him in shock, hands still holding onto the wires of the dismantled keypad.

“Uh, n-nothin’, sir.” 

“Ain’t look like nothin’. Seems to me y’found yerself a nice little hobby there, Mr Quill.” Yondu doesn’t look angry, just frustrated and maybe a bit annoyed. 

“I just-”

“Them’s my quarters, boy. I ever find you outside’em again an’ I’ll let my boys eat’cha.” Yondu digs his comm out of his jacket, “Obfonteri, ain’t you supposed to be lookin’ after the Terran?”

“Yessir. Last I checked he was with Oblo.”

“Well he ain’t there no more. Caught him outside my quarters tryin’ to pick his way in. Come an’ get’im b’fore I feed y’ _both_ to the crew.”

A few minutes later, Peter’s carted off back to the cargo hold by Kraglin, a nervous knot forming in his stomach.

“Y’don’t go pokin’ around near the Cap’n, Pete.” Kraglin warns, “It’s just askin’ for trouble.”

Peter won’t go exploring without Kraglin anymore, he thinks. He’s not sure whether or not the Captain’s serious about his threat to feed him to the crew, but he’s not willing to take that chance.

\---

For the next few weeks, Peter learns where not to go, who to avoid, and what not to say. Kraglin tells him it’s for the best he learns all this from him, because where he teaches verbally and almost patiently, some of the crew would take any misstep as a reason to teach him his place.

And Peter’s quite happy not having his face kicked in.

The Eclector starts to feel like more of a prison than an adventure, however, but there’s not much he can do about it. He’s lightyears from home and (according to Kraglin) most planets they frequent don’t accept orphaned children.

“An’ if they do, it’s not a place y’wanna be, Pete. Means there’s some shady shit goin’ on.” Kraglin tells him from under the chassis of an M-Ship. “You’re safest on the ship, even if it don’t feel like it.”

“Okay.” Peter sighs. 

“Awe, don’t sound so glum, kiddo. Y’got me watchin’ out for ya. Ain’t nothin’ or no one gonna get ya while I’m still kickin’.”

Peter likes Kraglin. He’s weird and funny, and has odd but very effective ways of cheering Peter up like it’s nothing. It’s hard not to think of him as a kind of big brother, not that Peter would say that out loud, and it’s comforting feeling like he’s got someone like that around.

He doesn’t want to worry about what’ll happen when the First Mate’s out on a mission or if something happens to him. Instead, he focuses on watching Kraglin work and listens as he explains whatever he’s doing so Peter doesn’t get too bored.

\---

The day comes sooner than he’d hoped.

The crew’s gathered up in the hangar, listening for their names to be called from the job roster with rapt attention. Even Kraglin seems excited at the prospect of going off-ship.

Yondu gets through the list slowly, reading off names in threes and fours and going into excruciating detail about what they’re doing, where they’re going, and everything in-between.

Peter’s sure the Centaurian’s done reading off jobs when Yondu closes the holopad and tucks it into his jacket, but his relief is short lived when Yondu says:

“Kraglin, yer leadin’ the last team. Got a job y’ll enjoy.” And with that, Kraglin’s sent out with Half-nut and Vorker for a week-long vault job to find some artifact for a rich client, and Peter feels about an inch away from bursting into tears.

As soon as the crew are told to shove off, Kraglin kneels down in front of Peter and puts his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“It’s gonna be alright, Pete, you’ll see. I’ll even bring y’back somethin’ shiny.”

“But-” 

“Y’ain’t gotta worry about nothin’. You’ll be fine.” Kraglin squeezes his shoulders with a lopsided grin.

Peter wants to say that, yes, he _does_ have to worry, but Kraglin looks so happy that he just nods.

“Atta boy. You keep out’a the way an’ stay out’a trouble an’ I’ll be back before y’know it.”

\---

The moment Peter sees Kraglin’s ship disappear into a jump, he decides to hide.

He grabs a few ration packets and hides away in the tiny storeroom that had become his room, planning to stay there until Kraglin’s return.

Unfortunately, this only works for a grand total of two hours before he’s being hauled out from under his bed by a furious Gef.

“Just b’cause Kraglin ain’t here, don’t mean y’get to slack off, brat.”

Peter’s chores are simple. He cleans vents, sweeps out dead orloni from the engine room, and spends the rest of the day either fetching tools for the cargo and hangar crew or hanging out with Kraglin. 

He finishes his chores faster than normal, not wanting to be near such large groups of people on his own. 

Sure the crew here knew him and left him alone for the most part, but Peter was never sure if that was because they genuinely didn’t mind his presence or if the sight of Kraglin had deterred them. 

He’s not willing to risk staying in one spot for too long, not with Kraglin gone, and not with his warnings circling in his head.

A part of him realizes that, without Kraglin policing where he can and can’t go, he can finally properly explore some parts of the ship. But the other, more rational side, warns him it’s a bad idea.

His adventurous side wins out and, the moment he’s finished his chores and checked in with the crew, he disappears into what he’d been told was Forbidden Territory, promising himself it would only be a short, quick look around and then he would rejoin the lower crew with no one the wiser.

It’s exciting at first. The narrow halls give way to wide walkways and odd little rooms that seem to serve no purpose other than to hold panels of blinking lights. 

The further up he goes, the more crew members he sees. Every one of them ignore him, keeping their eyes on data pads or talking to each other as they walk. 

Kraglin had to be wrong about the crew here, Peter thinks. Not only was he basically invisible here, but he also felt safer. The press of bodies kept him out of anyone’s eyesight and he was able to move unimpeded through the maze of twists and turns and dead ends.

But then the excitement and sense of adventure wore off.

He’d only meant to snoop around for a little while, an hour tops, then make his way back down into the bowels of the ship. Somewhere along the way, he’d gotten turned around.

He was lost.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Peter turns around quickly, and is faced with a pink skinned man. “Looks like I’ve found myself a lost little boy.”

The man sneers down at him, gravelly voice grating on Peter’s already frayed nerves.

“I’m not lost.”

“You’re not a very good liar, kiddo.” Everything about the man screams _danger_ , but he’s got Peter practically backed against a wall with no escape.

“Gef sent me to run a message to the captain, I ain’t lost.”

“Nice try, but the captain’s on the other side of the ship. I can show you, if you like.” The man grins, wide mouth filled with sharp, jagged teeth. He grabs Peter’s arm roughly, making Peter hiss from the pain that shoots up to his shoulder.

“Let go!” He tries to worm his way out of the man’s grip, but he just squeezes harder. Panic sets in, and Peter’s brain immediately goes into fight mode.

He bites down as hard as he can on the man’s arm. 

“You little _shit_.” The man yells, trying to dislodge Peter’s teeth from his arm. He slams Peter painfully into the wall and for a second Peter sees stars before he’s thrown to the ground.

“Looks like I’m going to have to teach you some manners, y’ disrespectful brat.” Before Peter can react, the man kicks him solidly in the stomach. 

\---

Yondu can hear the kid’s crying from the moment he steps out of his room. The odd keening sound grates on his nerves, but it also does something to his heart that he can’t really explain. 

He follows the sniffles and choked sobs until he gets to a short hallway. There’s an alarming amount of blood on the wall and floor, making Yondu wonder if someone had been killed.

A little further down the hall, Yondu spots Peter’s shoe sticking out of the vent. 

“The hell you cryin’ for, boy?” He grumbles, kicking at the boy’s foot. Peter starts shuffling forward, trying to drag his foot into his little shelter, but Yondu’s not having any of his shit.

He reaches down and yanks Peter out of the vent, ready to start berating the boy for having a tantrum in the vents instead of doing his chores.

His anger dies, however, as he gets a good look at Peter’s tear and blood-streaked face.

Yondu stares at the boy in surprise. Black eye, bruises on his jaw and neck, blood trailing from a cut on his forehead -someone had given the kid a thorough working over and it made Yondu’s blood boil.

The crew getting into fights was nothing, it happened when you lived with the biggest assholes in the galaxy, but this was different. This wasn’t a typical fight; it was malicious, cruel and twisted. 

This was someone out for damn _blood_.

He pulls the boy to his feet, steadying him when it looks like he’s about to keel over.

“Think you can walk?” He asks. Peter shakes his head lightly, eyes glazed and slightly unfocused as he stares up at Yondu.

“A’right, kid, hold yer breath.” He waits until Peter does what he’s told before picking him up and settling him on his hip. Peter lets out a short whine, but doesn’t protest further.

Yondu should be bothered by the boy clinging to him and shoving his snotty, tear drenched face into his neck, but he’s too focused on what he wants to do to the sorry sonuva bitch that did this.

\---

Peter’s quiet and unmoving as Yondu does his best to patch him up. He’s not the most gentle person in the galaxy, especially not when it comes to hurt kids, but he does his best not to scrub or press too hard.

When he’s done, he packs up the medical bag and toes it back under his desk before plopping down on the bed beside Peter.

From what Kraglin had told him, the boy was basically ten pounds of chaos in a four ounce bag. But the boy sitting still and silent beside him made him consider maybe Kraglin was wrong. 

No kid was this quiet. They cried and screamed and sniffled, they didn’t just _sit_ there wallowing in their hurt.

Yondu looks around, unsure what to do now Peter was patched up. He couldn’t just kick him out or send him on his way, not with whatever bastard that did this to him still out there, but the silence was grating on him.

Finally, his eyes landed on his trinkets, a vast collection of everything from tiny animals to odd little vehicles and ships. Kid liked adventure stories, according to Kraglin, so what better way to cheer the kid up than to tell a few of his own.

“Y’see that little green ship up there?” Yondu says, pointing toward the knicknack in question. 

Peter looks up, searching the wall of shelves looking for it. It takes him a second or two thanks to the mass of everything, but he eventually finds it.

“The one with the flames?”

“That’s the one. There’s a fun little story behind it, if y’wanna hear.” Yondu doesn’t know what to do if Peter says he’s not interested, but he’s hoping the kid’s still got a little curiosity in him.

Peter nods, thankfully, so Yondu begins his tale.

He tells Peter about his first job as a Ravager, about the huge vault he’d lit up like a supernova with ten pounds of explosives only to find there was nothing in there but that little model M-ship. 

Yondu makes his escape from the facility sound grand and amazing, even though, in reality, he’d already cleared out the guards and had been able to just walk out like he owned the place, ship in hand.

He left out the part about it being a test of his skills (because Stakar was damn militant about testing his crew with dumbass jobs before they got real ones), and about how he’d thrown a fit because it hadn’t been a _real_ job.

Kid wants to hear tales of adventure, not ones about boring testing missions that were so easy it literally took Yondu five minutes to do and walked out without a scratch.

The whole time, Peter’s wide-eyed and gaping like a fish, spouting out a random ‘ _no way!_ ’ or ‘ _that’s so cool!_ ’ throughout the story.

They make a game out of it after a while. Peter points to a random trinket from Yondu’s collection, Yondu tells him the story behind it, and Peter listens with fascinated attention at his tale of dare-doing and amazing close call escapes.

Yondu finds himself enjoying retelling old tales, even though he has to leave out parts of some stories or even invent new ones for specific trinkets (because he’s sure Peter doesn’t want to hear about the one he bought after his first sexual encounter).

During one of the more long-winded stories, Yondu realizes Peter’s fallen asleep. He surprises himself by not being at all miffed the boy’d passed out in the middle of one of the better stories.

Peter had been through a helluva lot in less than a day, he deserved a bit of rest.

\---

Yondu wants to ask about what happened to Peter, but the kid’s like a spooked animal. One wrong or sudden move and he’d go back to flinching and silence. 

But the question’s there, itching at the back of his mind like a bad rash.

He has to gain the boy’s trust before he could even hope of getting a straight answer. So he keeps Peter close, letting him sleep next to him and ask weird questions throughout the day.

Little by little, the chaotic boy from Kraglin’s reports starts shining through. 

He knows Peter misses Kraglin, as he has a right to due to the fact the First Mate has been his guardian for the past two months, but every time the kid starts talking about him Yondu feels a little jealous. 

He shouldn’t, really, because it was by his own command that the boy be kept as far away from him as possible, but he does. 

Finally, after four days, Yondu decides Peter’s recovered enough from his ordeal to give him some answers.

“So who gave ya that shiner?” Yondu asks, startling Peter from his reading. 

He’d been steadily teaching the boy how to read and write Xandarian as a kind of ‘ _thanks for watching out for the kid_ ’ present for Kraglin when he returns. The kid’s a damn natural when it comes to learning, even though he gets distracted easily.

Peter shrugs in response, his finger idly drawing shapes on the data pad.

“It’s good t’know yer not a rat, Pete, but I’m expectin’ an answer.”

“I dunno his name.” The boy mumbles with another shrug.

“Didn’t expect ya to, seein’ as y’just hang around with Kraglin. What he look like?” Peter frowns, trying to remember anything about the man that’d grabbed him.

“Uh, well. He had pink skin. And horns, an’ really sharp teeth.”

“That narrows it down t’about a hun’erd or so crew.”

“I don’t remember anything else. ‘M sorry.” Yondu feels instantly guilty for pressing the matter. Of course Peter wouldn’t remember much of anything after the sizable concussion he’d received. 

“Y’know what, kid? How ‘bout you an’ I go on a walk an’ you tell me when y’see’im.” Maybe if Peter saw the bastard again, he’d be able to pick him out. It was a slim hope, but it’s all Yondu think up.

Peter wants to say no, but then he realizes that if he doesn’t agree, Yondu will more than likely just chuck him out of his quarters and Peter would have to face the man again.

And maybe next time, he won’t be so lucky.

“Okay.”

\---

Yondu and Peter gain a lot of stares and confused mumbling as they make their way through the crowded halls. Peter tries to ignore them, but they’re everywhere, digging holes into him and making him nervous.

“Jus’ tell me when you see’im.” Yondu says, pretending he doesn’t notice Peter tucking himself into his side as they walk through the overcrowded hallways.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long to find the guy. 

As soon as Peter sees him, he tugs on Yondu’s hand and nods towards the man sitting at the Nav controls. Fortunately, he’s the only pink skinned crew member on the bridge at the moment, so it’s not too hard for Yondu to spot him.

“A’kar.”

“Aye, captain?” A’kar calls back as he stands at attention.

“A word if y’please.” 

A’kar’s eyes flick from Peter’s face to Yondu’s arrow holster, and that’s enough tell for Yondu to know the guy’s guilty as shit.

“Somethin’ I can help you with, captain?” The man says as soon as he’s standing in front of Yondu. 

“As someone who’s been a part of my crew for three years, I figure y’got the rules all memorized. Am I right?” By this point, all eyes are on A’kar. Everyone knows he’s done something and they’re just waiting to see their captain’s reaction.

“Aye, sir.” 

“That right? See, I ain’t too keen on believin’ ya, so how ‘bout you recite the first three rules.”

“Obey the captain’s orders without question, don’t steal from none’a the crew, an’ don’t pick fights with none’a the crew unless it’s justified.”

“Good, good. Y’ve remembered them damn well, I’d say.” A’kar looks relieved, his nervousness bleeding away to pride at being able to recite the most basic rules.

“Thank y’sir.” He says with a cocky grin.

“Now I want ya t’ tell me why you decided t’ ignore that third rule.” A’kar’s grin drops, replaced by a look of panic.

“Captain, I didn’t-”

“Yer a hun’erd percent sure _this_ ’ the guy that beat ya, Pete?” Yondu asks, looking down at the frightened boy. He places a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder when he doesn’t answer. 

“S’alright, Pete. Y’ain’t gotta be scared’a no one with me around.”

Peter nods once before stuttering out a quiet, “Yessir, that’s him.” 

“Here’s what yer gonna do, A’kar.” He says, voice full of malice, “Yer gonna get down on yer knees and beg Mr Quill here t’forgive ya.”

“But I-” Yondu holds up a hand, silencing anything A’kar had to say.

“Y’didn’t let me finish. Yer gonna beg his damn forgiveness an’ then I’m gonna let the boys teach you a lesson about followin’ rules yer captain put down."

“Sir, I-”

“That ain’t soundin’ like no apology, A’kar.”

A’kar looks at Peter fearfully, silently pleading with the boy to make the captain change his mind. 

There’s a short whistle and suddenly A’kar slams down to his knees, eyes locked on the humming red arrow hovering by his face.

Yondu gives him a dark look, lips pursed and ready to finish the threat.

“I-I’m sorry, Peter. I ain’t meant to hurt you bad, I just got carried away - _please_ f-forgive me.”

“What’d’y say t’that, Pete? Good enough?” Peter nods, even though he knows the man’s just apologizing because he’s got Yondu’s arrow digging into his skull.

Yondu ruffles Peter’s hair and grins at A’kar. 

“Now then. I know I said I’d let the boys handle ya, but I realized that weren’t good enough.” He says, metal capped teeth bared in a crooked smile. “‘Cause I reckon y’broke _two_ rules, not jus’ one.”

Yondu looks around the bridge crew, staring each one down as he passes over them.

“I’m makin’ a new rule, assholes. Gonna become rule number two. Y’don’t touch the Terran. Anyone thinks they can an’ get away with it’ll get a swift kick out the airlock. Am I clear?”

There’s a quick round of ‘ _Aye, Cap’n_ ’ and everyone quickly gets back to work, not wanting to piss off their captain even more than he already is.

“Horuz, yer in charge of spacin’ this asshole. I want him gone five minutes ago.”

“Right away, Captain.” Horuz salutes and does as he’s told, dragging a whimpering A’kar from the bridge and out towards the nearest hatch. 

Peter watches them go, a strange mix of guilt and relief gathering in his chest.

He’ll never have to face A’kar again.

\---

The returning crew re-dock somewhere in the middle of the night shift, so Yondu knows he's not going to be bothered with reports and belly-aching until at least after breakfast. 

However, to his surprise, an hour after they've arrived Kraglin comes crashing into his quarters, wide-eyed and panicking like the hounds of hell themselves were after him.

“Cap’n, I can’t find Peter. I asked around, but no one’s seen’im an’-”

“Calm yerself, Kraggles. Just so happens I know where our resident Terran is.” Kraglin lets out a breath, visibly relaxing at the news. 

“Sorry, sir.” He says sheepishly, embarrassed about how he’d just barged into Yondu’s quarters.

“Let’s just hope yer grand entrance didn’t wake the brat up.”

“Cap’n?” Yondu makes his way over to the bed and lifts the pile of blankets, revealing a sleeping Peter. 

“Kid’s not so bad once y’get used to’im. But I was right about the damn imprinting thing.”

“I can take’im back to his room if you’d like, Cap’n.” 

Yondu shakes his head, “One’a the crew thought it’d be fun knockin’ him senseless, so he’s bunkin’ with me now.” 

Yondu doesn’t miss the sharp flash of anger in Kraglin’s eyes at the news someone hurt Peter. The bruises are still visible, though they’ve faded to a mottled yellow, and that only seems to fuel the fire in his First Mate’s eyes.

He’s protective as hell over the kid and there’s no wondering why. Peter got under your skin quicker and easier than any parasite.

“Mighty nice’a you, sir.” Kraglin replies. He’s itching to learn about what happened, Yondu can tell, but he’ll save that for morning. 

“Mind yer tone, Obfonteri, an’ get some shut-eye. I expect a full report in the mornin’.” Kraglin gives him a salute and walks out with a short glance towards Peter. 

Yondu scrubs a hand over his face as soon as his First Mate is gone and sighs. 

He honestly hadn’t expected to get so attached to the tiny Terran boy, but he had, and knew from that day forward Peter was going to be as attached to _him_ as he was to Kraglin.

As Yondu settles down for the night, Peter wiggles around until he’s snug against Yondu’s side, and the Centaurian can’t help the instinctive way his arm wraps around the boy’s thin shoulders. 

At least now he knew, without a doubt, that Terrans have some sort of weird imprinting thing going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late, had a busy af week. This is the longest drabble I've written (at 4'033 words) and I'm pretty proud of that~
> 
> Two major notes:  
> 1) This fic is marked as complete, but may be resumed at a later date. Life's gotten annoying lately, and I don't have the time to work on anything.
> 
> 2) I've been getting a lot of asks and messages on tumblr from people telling me they don't understand why I haven't updated this fic on FFnet. I do not have a Fanfiction.net account that is active, so if y'all see one or more'a my fics on there (or anywhere else) please let me know. The only place I upload fanfics is here on AO3 and occasionally on tumblr, but nowhere else.


	13. Hate

Hate’s a strong word, even for Ravagers. 

You don’t hate the job, you’re _pissed off_ at what happened during the job. You don’t hate your crewmates even if they’re bitter assholes, you’re _pissed off_ because they’re bitter assholes.

And if even if you _said_ you hated something, it was only half-hearted at best and could be smothered away with a few drinks (because after a few drinks, _hate_ becomes _pissed off at_ real quick).

But Yondu can say, with absolute certainty and meaning, that he _hates_ Ego.

He hates everything about the man. From the smug tone, the conviction in the man’s voice that his kids will be _safe_ and _happy_ in a quiet, seemingly empty home, and how callously he refers to his children -like they’re some kind of meal ticket instead of far-flung long lost family. 

Yondu lays awake at night wondering why and how their calls feel so devoid of children’s laughter (after all, Yondu’s delivered ten children now and he knows how loud each and every one of them can get).

It takes him far too long to realize it’s because there’s no children there. That here’s just Ego calling from an empty planet, bargaining with Yondu for more of his children to be returned.

Yondu nearly snaps at the last call.

Ego’s asking for a Terran boy named Peter Quill. He says the boy’s name like he’s asking for another drink at the bar and it irks the captain to the point he nearly buckles and tells the man to fuck off and find someone else. 

He holds it in, but just barely.

He can’t stop looking for the other kids he’d delivered as Ego lists off the boy’s description, age, and location. Yondu should be paying attention, but he’s got the system recording the call so he really doesn’t have to.

Later, he watches the recording, trying to find any proof the kids are still alive. Voices, toys, nosey little faces peeking out from corners -anything that could put his mind to rest. But there’s nothing aside from Ego’s smug, smiling face telling Yondu: 

_‘I’m raising the price to ten million units. I hope that’s enough to compensate for the travel._ ’

Ten million is a lot for one kid, especially since the others barely hit three million no matter how far the _Eclector_ had to travel to find them. 

Ego’s desperate for this one, desperate enough to offer over _triple_ the amount of money. 

But why?

Yondu pauses for a moment before pulling up a long list of galaxy-wide jobs. Ego’s offered the job to nearly every crew within forty clicks, each at the same price.

Ten million units for a kid from a planet so primitive they hadn’t even made it passed their own moon. 

Yondu frowns, knowing he has to get to this one before anyone else does, that they’re on a tight-as-shit time constraint because Ego got it in his head to call _everyone_ for this job.

His frown deepens as he realizes that, no, he _doesn’t_ have to get this one. 

Why should he allow Ego to put more blood on his hands when there were other, somewhat respectable, jobs he could take?

So he ignores Ego’s file and sifts through nearby jobs. But he can’t concentrate without his mind drifting back to Peter Quill so he gives up and pulls the information back up.

Peter’s eight, the youngest of Ego’s children. He’s tiny and skinny, with freckles and a dimpled smile and is just about the cutest thing Yondu’s seen. 

Yondu stares at the kid’s smiling face on the screen, thinking about how _little_ this one’s lived and immediately knows exactly what he _wants_ to do, but not what he _should_ do.

So he goes to someone he knows won’t start a mutiny over his indecision over the matter. Someone who’s loyal but impartial. Someone he can trust. 

He goes to Kraglin.

Yondu tells him everything he knows, everything he thinks he knows, and everything he doesn’t know.

The kid’s got a good head on his shoulders, an ear in every vent, an eye on every corner, and a way of talking that can get the crew onto an idea faster than Yondu ever could. 

He’d make a great First Mate one day, but not now and not any time soon. There are still more than a few kinks Yondu has to work out of the kid first.

“Y’got good instincts, cap’n.” Kraglin says, “If you think we should leave it to someone else, we should. But if y’think we should get the kid, then we’d better get goin’ b’fore anyone else gets the idea.”

And just like that, Yondu’s mind is made.

He gathers the crew in the morning, tells them there’s a score waiting for them thanks to another job from Ego. An easy, simple, in-and-out job as usual when it comes to these kids (since none of them really put up any fight when they get told they’re going to their father).

He tells them it’s the usual two million. Not so he can pocket the rest, but so it’s not so hard a blow when it all falls through. 

He feels bad for the kid, but he’s not willing to risk mutiny when the funds don’t come in.

Yondu figures they can pick the kid up and drop him off at some Nova outpost along the way to their next client. Again, poor kid, but he doesn’t need another mouth to feed, _especially_ a mouth that can barely feed itself.

They head out within the hour, making for Terra with the threat of other crews going for the same mark at their heels, reaching the planet in record time (with only a half-blown engine as a result, which is far better than they’d expected).

The kid’s got a translator chip in him before the M-ship delivers him to the _Eclector_ and Yondu half-heartedly hates the yowling, blabbering kid that’s shoved in front of him. 

A couple of the returning crew are cradling their hands, bite marks and scratches littering their arms and faces, and that half-hearted hatred turns into amusement and he already knows he’s going to _love_ having this kid around. 

Peter looks like he's either about to scream or punch something and hasn't made up his mind which, and that’s better than Yondu expects from him. He can handle a fighter, but not a skittish cry-baby and this kid, judging from the amount of glares trained on him, is far from either. 

Yondu waits a couple days to break the news 

They’re not going to deliver the kid, he tells them, because his jackass of a father is refusing to pay. 

It was technically true anyway. People tend not to pay when they don't get their cargo delivered. 

Crew don't need to know that little detail though.

Kraglin gives him the side-eye during his little fib, but doesn’t say anything to discredit his words and that lets Yondu know he’s done something right in Kraglin’s books. The man don’t keep quiet about something that goes against his moral compass.

For some reason, Peter decides Yondu’s the safest person on board and refuses to leave his side. 

The crew makes a joke of it, but they don’t laugh long, not while the boy’s got a thing for biting anyone who pisses him off (and so far he’s bitten everyone, aside from Yondu, at least twice).

Peter and Kraglin already have some kind of rivalry going on and it’s equal parts annoying and amusing. The First Mate’s pissed off the kid keeps biting him, but Yondu guesses he’s gotta deserve a few of the new scars Peter gives him. 

The kid’s an asshole, but he’s not an _asshole_. 

Ego calls at least twice a day asking about his son. Yondu gives him some bullshit about them being stuck in supervised space for the first few calls.

“We gotta be careful out this way,” Yondu says. “Nova’s got patrols out here. We ain’t careful, you ain’t gettin’ yer boy.”

After that, it’s more bullshit about needing repairs or having to stop to hire more crew after a fierce mutiny. A week of this and Ego stops calling altogether, which only confirms Yondu’s suspicions about the guy. 

Yondu doesn’t let it bother him, though. He’s got Peter and as long as he keeps him moving, he’ll be safe.

He watches the kid grow from a scrawny, bite-sized Terran to a snarky, over confident, well-rounded Ravager. He’s not sure why, but Yondu’s proud of that kind of progress. 

It’s probably because he didn’t expect Peter to live that long, but he’s sure it’s thanks to his own brand of tough love.

He suffers through the Terran brand of puberty, filled with _‘I hate you’_ followed by an apology an hour later (because Peter doesn’t _do_ actual hate); through random nightmares that accompany Peter’s first kill and kidnapping; through the days Peter disappears with one of Yondu’s M-ships, only to return a week later with a grin and more blood on him than in him.

Through the twenty-odd years Yondu raised Peter, there are still very few things he can say with absolute certainty that he hates.

He hates the nightmares filled with the screams of dying slave-mates because they make him feel weak and helpless and bring back that old stabbing pain under and around his implant. 

He hates Ego for so many reasons he probably couldn’t even list them all without spending an hour ranting on every bullet point he makes. 

He hates mutinies because there’s a lot of mess, a lot of good crew gone, and an age of seething anger and betrayal and mistrust afterwards. 

He hates when Peter gets hurt and not just because the kid cries and Yondu finds himself comforting the Terran, but because that’s _his_ kid and no one’s allowed to hurt his kid.

He hates when Peter finally leaves and doesn’t come back. Not because he’s worried the kid might not make it out there without him, but because Yondu knows the kid’s grown up and no longer needs Yondu to chase away nightmares or save him from some asshole who thought he was a good target.

The kid didn’t even say _goodbye_ , just disappears in the middle of the night with no note, no plans, and no units to get by with.

And Yondu hates himself for missing a kid that isn’t even his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this one after digging through my folders. I don't know when it was done or if it was edited, but hopefully you guys like it!


	14. Idiot/Genius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive any spelling mistakes, I wrote this at 6am on my tablet XI Inspired by the anon who sent me an ask with the line "9 times out of 10 dumb"

Peter takes to being a Ravager (in training) easier than Yondu expected. He’s got quick reflexes, good aim, and a strangely intuitive knowledge of how nearly everything on the ship works. 

He even gets weapon disassembly and reassembly down in just under an hour. All Yondu had to do was show him how, and the kid had it down to the names of each part.

After that, Peter annoys Kraglin into teaching him how to do basic repairs on the M-ships. The kid’s bored of the simple shit, Yondu suspects, and wants something actually challenging. 

Again, Yondu is surprised by how quick Peter can learn something new when Kraglin approaches him at the end of the shift two weeks later to tell him the kid had fixed a ship they’d written off as scrap.

Yondu takes Peter out for target practice, and the boy hits eight out of ten targets, only needing his stance corrected twice in the four hours they’d been there.

Tulk teaches him how to use the nav controls. Peter takes two days to learn a year’s worth of information and can set a course pretty much with his eyes closed at this point.

Oblo and Vorker teach Peter how to fight like a Ravager and he’s a fucking natural at it (not really a surprise there, but it’s still impressive). And, sure, he’s not _amazing_ , but he takes to fighting like it’s some innate ability he’s always possessed.

The boy’s a Terran who had ever been off his home-planet and never touched anything more complicated than his walkman, but he’s got the ship and Ravager ways down to a T, like being a so-called ‘space pirate’ is second-nature to him. 

And he’s only nine years old.

Peter still says dumb shit, asks tedious questions, annoys the hell out of half the crew (Yondu and Kraglin taking the brunt of most of this), and gets himself into trouble on far too many occasions -but the little monster is, more often than not, a bonafied savant.

Yondu doesn’t know whether to be proud or confused.

But then Peter does something certifiably stupid and that pride and confusion gives way to ‘ _fuckin’ idiot Terran_ ’.

One of the crew bets Peter he can’t jump off the highest catwalk and live. Of course the kid’s nine-times-outta-ten dumb when it comes to dangerous stunts or opportunities to prove himself some kind of badass, so he _abso-fuckin-lutely_ takes that bet. 

Thankfully some of the crew actually have brains in their skulls and decide it’s better to warn Kraglin (who, in turn, warns Yondu) about Peter’s upcoming death.

“We should grab some food.” Kraglin mumbles, stopping Yondu in his tracks.

“What the hell for?”

“Gotta have it for the entertainment. Somethin’ small, y’know. Ain’t gonna be a long drop.”

By the time the two actually make it to the main strut, Peter’s already hanging off the edge of the top-most catwalk railing.

There’s a cheer from the gathered crew, along with shouts of encouragement and bets on how big of a mess the kid will make.

Yondu’s got half a whistle out before Peter pushes away from the rail and drops like a stone and he’s left scrambling for an idea (heart firmly lodged in his throat) while Kraglin lets out a string of curses next to him.

He can’t use his arrow, not with the kid dropping that fast, as it’d just put a hole through whatever it hits no matter how good Yondu’s aim is. They couldn’t even string out a net or something with how fast the kid was plummeting towards the floor.

Peter’s tiny life flashes before Yondu’s eyes (really, just the past year because that’s how long the brat’s been with them) and the regret builds up in his chest. He should’ve been a better Captain, should’ve watched out for the boy better. Maybe should’ve hugged him once or twice.

Kraglin’s worrying up a storm beside him, muttering something about hugging Peter more, and maybe he’s on the same thought process as Yondu. 

Seems they’re both a bit attached to the little brat.

Suddenly, seconds before he’s about to smash face-first into the ground, Peter presses a button on his thigh and his boots flicker to life, righting him and easing his descent until he’s standing in the middle of the crew.

The crew cheers loudly, a few of them slapping the kid on the back, while Peter poses like some action hero from his beloved comic books.

Yondu nearly had a heart attack with that stunt, and the kid’s grinning and laughing like he’d just won a damn battle. 

Kraglin breathes out a sigh of relief, “Scariest shit I’ve seen in a long while. Kid’s got some balls on’im.”

Yondu ignores him and charges through the crowd, grabs the still smug boy by his ear and drags him out of the room, ranting and raving the whole time.

How the kid could be both a damn prodigy and a complete _dumbass_ at the same time is, and will always be, a mystery to Yondu.

By the time Peter’s done making up for his stunt (and for nearly driving Yondu to a full-on heart attack), the ship will shine enough you could use every wall as a mirror.

(And if Yondu and Kraglin are a bit more watchful and/or affectionate towards Peter, no one says anything about it.)


	15. Weightless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for major character death
> 
> This is probably the happiest I've been with one'a these drabbles~ A big thanks to my friend Salde for this idea :D Again, let me know if there's any mistakes <3

Yondu has a problem with his crew (well, the crew he has left after a long and violent mutiny). They’re all whispering about him, gossiping about every move he makes and every word that comes out of his mouth.

He should be used to the crew stepping out of line and saying stupid shit, (hell, they’d only gotten worse when Peter went from Cargo to Crew) but this wasn’t them calling Yondu soft.

This was mutinous shit, the kind of talk that riled up the more unsatisfied lot and nearly killed everyone on board.

Shit like:

“D’d ya hear? Salde walked in on th’ cap’n talkin’ t’ Quill about teachin’im t’fly. Like the brat was right b’side’im an’ all.”

“Captain’s gone insane, he has. Thinkin’ he can teach the kid anything now.”

Or...

“Captain asked me where the kid’s music thing was. Odd that it slipped his memory.”

“Maybe he’s lost too much sleep?”

Or...

“Cap’n called f’r ol’ Kraggles this mornin’.”

“Pssh, if he’s hollerin’ for his First Mate, he’s gonna have t’yell a bit louder than that.”

By the end of the first week, there are four spaced crew and three more with arrow-related injuries. 

Crew learn to keep their gossiping to the bunks and avert their eyes.

Yondu takes the silence and lack of staring as he’s gained a bit of respect back. He doesn’t see the secretive glances or the knowing looks or the pitying stares he gets when his back is turned.

He won the battle for silence and respect, but he was slowly slipping out of the war.

\---

Yondu shivers before pulling his blanket closer around him and Peter. His quarters have been colder since the mutiny, and he’s yet to figure out why. Saal says the vents are working fine, along with the temperature regulation systems, but Yondu’s of a mind not to believe him.

Peter’s not cold, however, so maybe it’s just him. 

\---

Yondu can’t find Kraglin. His First Mate was somewhere on the ship, slacking in his duties and letting the crew run off at the mouth.

He signals Kraglin’s communicator, ready to track down his First Mate and give him what-for for letting the crew run wild behind his back. 

It flashes back _‘out of range’_ several times before Yondu gives up, figuring Kraglin either has it off or forgot it at their last stop. He’d done it before, why wouldn’t he do it again.

\---

Since the mutiny, Peter’s been quieter and more withdrawn around the crew. It should worry Yondu, but it doesn’t. As long as the kid listens to orders and doesn’t talk back (too much, at least) then it’s fine. 

Kid’s skittish, Yondu suspects, around the new faces that’d replaced the dead, so he lets it go. Peter will be fine, even if he only acts like himself when it’s just him and Yondu.

\---

There’s a click, a sharp scraping noise, and loud bang.

\---

Yondu feels weightless, like the high one got after taking too much of the good stuff. And that age-old ache in his back is gone, so maybe he _had_ gotten into the good stuff? 

Maybe Kraglin, wherever that sneaky bastard was, had seen how exhausted his captain was and ordered something be put in his drink?

It’s been a while since he had a good sleep (running four days with next to no sleep and no caffeine after a heavy mutiny will do that to you), so he lets it go and sleeps. 

\---

There are stars above him and around him, but he’s not freezing. He’s floating in the middle of space with no suit, no mask, and no ship. Surely, he should be dead by now, but he can breathe and move and there’s no answer for it.

“Yondu?” 

That’s probably not any better, Yondu thinks, and it definitely complicates the narrative a bit more. Why and how could Peter be out in the middle of starfield with him?

Peter’s face appears above him, his too-long hair whipping around his face as he smirks down at his captain. Yondu hates it when the boy’s taller than him, so he stands (which just brings up the confusion factor to 90, because he was sure he wasn’t laying down).

“Hey’a, Pete. You ain’t lookin’ so hot, kid.” Yondu says with a crooked grin. Peter’s a bit pale and there’s thick, dark bags under his eyes. He’s standing, though, so that’s enough to let Yondu know he’s still okay.

“Same t’you, old man.” The fifteen year old smiles wider, the thick pink scar running from his forehead to his jaw crinkles.

When had Peter gotten that? Why didn’t Yondu remember it? He’d stared at the kid long enough to memorize every damn freckle on his face, but he’d somehow missed a damn scar that took up half the kid’s face.

Then, like a bucket of freezing water crashing down on him, the memories come.

Kraglin’s furious cries as he’s first in line to be shoved out of the airlock into the cold abyss of stars. He fights, scores some hits that send his attackers reeling, but it’s not enough. He’s frozen stiff before the doors close behind him.

Peter’s lifeless eyes as he stares, unblinkingly, at Yondu as blood pools around his head. Someone had beaten and stabbed him before leaving him to bleed out in a vent he’d stuffed himself into. 

Peter finally wearing Ravager leathers like he’d always dreamed of with the flame freshly stitched into the jacket just above his heart, walkman right beside his flame playing _‘Oooh, Child’_ on full blast as they prepare his funeral pyre. 

The crew (the ones left after the attack that actually liked Peter) with tears on their cheeks as they pound their fists on their chests in a final salute to their youngest member. None of them hide behind a mask of strength, not when someone so akin to their little brother is burning.

Watching Peter’s ashes scatter among the blinking lights of stars and fireworks as he’s released into whatever afterlife awaited him. Yondu can’t breathe through the clenching of his chest. He doesn’t cry, even though he wants to.

The empty casket filled with Kraglin’s belongings because there’s no body to send off. There’s more crew there, but out of respect more than anything. No one weeps for him, not openly at least.

“Yondu, you okay? Speak to me, man, you’re startin’ to freak me out.” Peter sounds worried, scared even, but Yondu can’t get the words out.

Instead, he wraps his kid in a hug so tight he swears he can hear joints cracking.

“I should’a been there t’save you.” He whispers into Peter’s hair, “I’m sorry, son.”

He feels Peter’s arms snake around his back, squeezing Yondu just as hard as the Captain was squeezing him. His shoulders shake and he’s letting out those weak, gasping sobs that always seemed to bubble out of him when he was a freshly abducted eight year old.

“It’s okay, dad.” Yondu tries not to cry, really tries, but the moment he hears Peter call him ‘dad’ (like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever had to say, like he’d never stopped saying it after he turned thirteen), he can’t help it. 

\---

They part sometime later and just stand there, side-by-side, trying to recollect themselves.

“Kraglin’s waiting for us on the ship.”

“What ship?”

“Your ship. Rules here are a bit wonky, but we need a captain or the ship won’t move. Kraglin wanted to make me captain, I told him he could be. We argued about it so much that when we finally came to a decision, it was too late and neither of us could be captain.”

As Peter explains, the fog around them dissipates. There, floating not too far from them, is a ship Yondu swears looks exactly like the _Eclector_. But it’s cleaner and lacking the asteroid dents, scorch marks, and the mish-mash of metal they’d used to fill the worst damage.

“What’d you name it?”

“Haven’t named it yet. Kraglin wanted to wait for you, so we waited.” It doesn’t feel right, naming it after the Eclector, so he doesn’t. That was their old home, a place filled with as much blood as bad memories. 

Yondu smiles and hooks an arm around Peter’s shoulders as he leads them towards the awaiting vessel.

“Think I’ll name’er _Arrow_. She’ll fly us straight and true, poppin’ holes in all our enemies a’fore they can even touch us.” He says with a proud grin towards their new home. “What d’ya think, Pete?”

“Sounds badass.” Peter grins back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so lovely with your reviews! It makes me so happy knowing people enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them~ Your reviews and kudos give me life


	16. Alternate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m kind’a nervous about postin’ this one. I know some of y’all ain’t too keen on Girl!Peter, but I’ve got two more requests for it after this one. The other two Girl!Peter fics will take place in the same universe/storyline as this one.

Meredith Quill was expecting a boy. 

She’d already painted the nursery in blues and beige, picked out a strong name, and had all the hopes in the world her baby boy had his father’s eyes.

She could barely concentrate long enough through the hazy aftermath of labor to understand anything the nurse said before “And the name?”

Meredith smiled dazedly, and told them the name that had been circling her mind for eight and a half months.

She wondered about the odd looks they sent her as the birth certificate was filled out, but as she stared down at her beautiful, healthy, gurgling baby, she couldn’t find a moment to care. 

\---

Yondu was expecting a boy. 

He’d already cleared out a storage room in the cargo hold for the boy’s sleeping quarters, picked out a good nickname (since he sure as hell wasn’t going to call the kid by his name, because that was a sure-fire way of getting attached), and had all the hopes in the universe Peter Quill wouldn’t be a pain in the ass.

He sends out an M-ship to grab the runt and haul him up to the _Eclector_ and in just under two hours, Peter’s shoved onto the floor in front of him, alternating between sobbing and sniffling.

He hopes his crew had enough sense to equip Peter with a universal translator before bringing the kid to him or Yondu’s job will be that much more annoying.

Yondu eyes the boy’s stupidly long hair that’s been inelegantly braided down his back and immediately knows it’s gotta go. Kid’s gonna be laughed at and mocked enough without having some girly hairdo.

“Get the hell up, boy.” He orders, ready to give Peter the perfectly planned speech he’s been saving up the moment the boy’s on his feet. 

“I’m not a boy!” Kid squeals back in an oddly high voice. The he... _she_ looks up and Yondu has a problem. 

\---

“Ah, Yondu, pleasure to see your smiling face again, my friend.” 

“Same t’you, I guess. Listen, we got a bit of a problem.”

“A problem?”

“Aye, the kid you sent us for. His name’s Peter Quill?”

“It is. Have you found him?”

“In a way. Turns out yer boy’s a girl.”

“Preposterous. Meredith named the child _Peter_ , so obviously it must be a boy.”

“Biometric readings say this girl’s yours, an’ I’m of a mind to believe machinery over someone what ain’t seen their kid.” Ego glares him down, and Yondu already knows what’s going to happen next.

“I shall not pay for a child that isn’t mine. Find my son or you won’t get your pay.” The connection closes, leaving Yondu seething in his chair. Looking around the gathered crew, Yondu can see they’re just as pissed off as he is. 

Good. It’ll make things easier than expected.

Yondu had been planning on making up some tale about why he wasn’t going to deliver the boy...er, _girl_ , but it seems like that’s taken care of itself now. 

“Tell me what’chur thinkin’.” He asks his crew. 

“She’s a tiny’un, Cap’n.” Kraglin speaks up after a moment.

“Won’t be able to d’fend ‘erself out there.” Someone in the crowd says.

“Her ma’s dead, so we can’t send her back. No knowin’ what Terran orphanages ‘r like.” 

“Can’t send her back no ways now, what if her da’s got some kind’a trackin’ on her?”

“We gotta keep’er safe, then.” Someone calls from the back of the crowd. The rest of the crew nod in agreement, and now Yondu’s got a bigger problem -they actually want to keep her. 

What’s worse is that none of them seemed the slightest bit put out that they were now down _two-million units_ because of the girl, their attention focused on how tiny and defenseless she was.

“We ain’t keepin’er on the damn ship. Ain’t no place for a kid.” He yells over their chatter. 

Everyone goes silent at that, each head whipping towards their Captain in disbelief. Even Kraglin’s giving him a sort of mutinous side-eye.

“This ship ain’t built for kids, an’ don’t none’a ya gimme that look. Y’all really think she’s be safe around a bunch’a Ravagers? With all the damn jobs we do and fights we get int’a, that girl’ll be dead in a week.” 

No one moves, but there’s a feeling of disjointment. Like the crew’s already planning on something he’s not going to like. 

“Next Nova port we come close t’, brat’s leavin’.” 

\---

Kraglin keeps finding high-paying jobs that are suspiciously far from any Nova post to make a detour to. 

Yondu would find his First Mate’s plan an act of mutiny if there was proof, but when confronted Kraglin just grins and says: “But Cap’n, lookit the pay”.

Yondu’s not about to turn down anything that’ll bring in five to ten thousand units.

So the girl stays on, learning how to do basic maintenance and repairs thanks to the crew. She even gets her own room, between Kraglin’s quarters and the bunkroom, that gradually fills up with all sorts of odd little figurines some of the crew have taken to creating for her.

It becomes a natural thing to hear her laughing at some stupid story or joke, or arguing with a crewmate (and sometimes Kraglin) about whether or not Terrans are poisonous or will _actually_ die from lack of spur-of-the-moment hugs.

Eventually, the crew get it in their heads that if they say Peter’s name in the wrong place or near the wrong people, Ego will find her. So, they call her _Quill_ instead.

It’s probably a good thing since, as they learn a few days into her stay, Peter hates her name.

“It’s a _boy’s_ name an’ I always got picked on for it.” She grumbles when Kraglin asks her why. “Worse than callin’ a boy _Sue_.”

\---

At some point during her stay, Quill decides she’s welcome to bug Yondu with never-ending questions whenever she catches him alone. Somehow, his answers go from short and frustrated, to full on explanations, to outright story time.

Yondu doesn’t really notice how eager he is to awe Quill with his adventures until he’s halfway through telling the brat about a narrow escape on some backwater planet. 

It smells like a plot to win Yondu over, but he finds he kind of enjoys the company and the wide-eyed expressions on her face after each daring story, so he doesn’t gripe about it. 

Too much, at least.

\---

“I’m over this little game’a yers’, Obfonteri, an’ it ain’t gonna work.” Yondu says after the tenth suspiciously-far-from-anything-Nova job Kraglin picks.

“No idea what yer on about, Cap’n.” 

“The girl ain’t stayin’ on this ship, no matter how far out you take us from any Nova post.”

Kraglin doesn’t seem to have the self-preservation to look even remotely guilty about being caught out. 

“I was just pickin’ out jobs t’replace the lost pay, sir.”

Yondu glares at him, but the Xandarian doesn’t back down.

“You know I don’t believe that shit, so tell me what's got you so keen on keepin’er.”

“Quill’s good f’r the crew,” Kraglin says after a moment in an oddly serious, completely not-Kraglin tone, “gives some’a them somethin’ t’fight for when shit looks hopeless.”

Yondu wants to argue that they’re _Ravagers_ , which means they don’t _need_ a reason to fight other than their love of fighting and getting paid.

But then he thinks about how protective they are around Quill and wonders what would happen if they were attacked and the girl was hurt. 

Fighting for your own life was something, but fighting for someone you considered family (which was exactly how Yondu’s crew thought of Quill) was something else entirely. You fought harder and with more venom in your blood.

The crew’s attached to the girl and, though he doesn’t understand why (and probably never will), he’s kind of attached to her too.

“Cap’n?”

“Gather the crew in the mess. Got a decision for’em.”

\---

He can see Quill standing between Atnul and Vorker, looking more nervous the longer Yondu doesn’t say anything. 

The crew seems subdued in a way neither Yondu nor Kraglin had seen before and the eyes of every Ravager feel like they’re searing into his skin. 

The tension is enough to make him sweat.

“I better not regret this, Obfonteri.” Yondu grumbles quietly. Kraglin nods, obviously fighting a grin, as Yondu turns to his crew.

“Y’all’s done a damn good job of makin’ me feel guilty for shit I ain’t done yet,” Yondu says with more than a hint of annoyance, “but you can stop now.” 

Yondu sighs and prays he’s not making some huge mistake.

“The girl stays.” He says, and the crowded mess hall erupts into wild cheering.

\---

It takes two weeks for Ego’s calls to start up again, which isn’t surprising. 

The man is damn near frothing at the mouth when Yondu tells him they aren’t delivering Quill, and demands Yondu bring him the girl (which, kudos for Ego for finally understanding he had a daughter instead of a son), but it was too little too late.

Quill was theirs now, a little Ravager with chaos built into her DNA, constellations in her freckles, and a dimpled smile that could melt any heart.

“You’ll regret this, Udonta,” Ego sneers, “I’ll have everyone in the galaxy after you.” 

“Good luck with that, jackass. Got the ninety-nine clans at my back, waitin’ for you t’make a move.” He doesn’t, not for sure, because he keeps psyching himself out of calling Stakar, but he’s got nothing else to bluff with.

Ego seems surprised at the news that Yondu hasn’t been exiled. To Yondu, it feels almost like the man expected it to happen, like he _planned_ for it to happen.

The whole thing makes Yondu nervous so later that night, after a few bottles of booze, he calls Stakar and explains everything. To his surprise, Stakar listens and understands the why’s and how’s, and even offers his help should Yondu need it.

Yondu expected to be banished from the clans for his actions (and inactions), but here he was with Stakar at his back and his crew whole.

\---

“Cap’n, crew an’ I’s been thinkin’,” Kraglin says early one morning, “y’know, ‘bout Quill.”

“And?” Yondu rolls his eyes. All the serious talks seem to involve Quill nowadays, even when they’re talking about a job or hiring, the girl’s name sneaks in. It should annoy the hell out of Yondu, but he has to agree with his crew on one point -there’s gotta be a rule to protect Quill.

Last thing they need is some rookie, wanna-be Ravager picking fights with a girl that’s a quarter their size just to get his entrails yanked out through his nose.

“She should know. ‘Bout Ego, I mean.” 

Whatever Yondu expected out of his First Mate’s mouth, it wasn’t that. He was guessing it had something to do with getting her clothes or hooking up an actual working shower that didn’t spray you with rust every other day.

He absolutely did _not_ want to talk to Quill about her jackass of a father. How the hell do you even tell someone you’d basically sent six of their brothers to their deaths or that their father was the one that killed said brothers?

“Quill’s too young t’be worryin’ about that.” Yondu grumbles, hoping Kraglin would take the hint.

“Beg pardon, sir, but she’s gonna be exposed t’a lot of weird an’ scary shit. But she’s tough as nails, an’ we think she should know what to look out for when it comes t’ the jackass.”

“Why?” 

Kraglin gives him a look of confusion and disbelief, making Yondu feel as though he’d asked the dumbest question in the galaxy.

\---

“When we picked you up, girlie, we was meant t’deliver you to yer daddy,” Yondu says, “But that ain’t the plan no more.”

The girl stares at him, searching for something with her annoyingly blue eyes.

“Is it because he doesn’t want me?”

“Nah, he wants ya alrigh’, he just ain’t gettin’ ya.” Yondu says, trying to stop the on-coming tears he knows will come from Quill thinking her only living family doesn’t want her.

Quill lets out a little ‘oh’, looking so confused and sad Yondu immediately wants to hug her.

“So does this mean you guys are gonna drop me off somewhere?”

“Yer part’a the crew, Quill. Means yer stuck with us until y’feel it’s time y’got out on yer own. If y’ever feel it, that is.” 

Yondu doesn’t want to give her the whole story, even though Kraglin had made it abundantly clear he should. She’s a too tiny, too young Terran half-god whose knowledge doesn’t go beyond her homeworld and Yondu doesn’t want that fear chasing her around for the rest of her life.

“Why?” Quill asks, sounding genuinely baffled.

“What’d’ya mean, _why_?” 

In his own question, Yondu hears the incomprehension Kraglin had reacted with when Yondu asked him why the girl should know about her father. 

But he gets it now.

Because Ego still wants his kid and will do damn-near anything to get his hands on her. 

Because there may come a time when Quill’s alone for more than a second and Ego finds her and she has to be prepared for that when or if.

Because there’s not really a choice. 

Yondu takes a breath and tells the girl everything.

\---

Yondu wonders what their lives would have been like had Peter been a boy. 

Would the crew have afforded him the same kindness and acceptance as they did with _this_ Peter? 

Maybe making boy-Peter part of the crew would start a mutiny instead of a celebration. Maybe it would drive Yondu’s Ravager clan to pieces, tearing them apart from the inside out as they muttered about their Captain going soft. 

With Peter, _this_ Peter, the crew were patient and eager to teach their ways; would the same be true for boy-Peter?

Stakar had once told him of alternate realities and universes (places where things worked and played out differently than they did in theirs) so maybe things had gone that way in one of those places. 

Hell, maybe in one of those whatevers, Peter, boy or girl, was a baby when the Ravagers found them, or they picked up their mama before she even had them and so he or she had been raised among the stars.

There were so many variables in these alternate places, and Yondu could think of every way the situation may have played out.

He could’ve handed Peter over in one reality, told Stakar nothing about Ego or the children and continued to deliver kids one after another until there weren’t any left.

He could’ve kept Peter in another, staying quiet about everything until it came to a head and he was either exiled or killed in a mutiny (or both).

Or maybe there was a time or place he’d ignored Ego, or told him to fuck off after he learned what was _really_ happening on that planet, and spent the rest of his life wondering what happened to that last child. 

Yondu wonders if, in one or more of those alternate places, he chose the wrong option.

\---

Years down the road Yondu goes from ‘Sir’ to ‘Captain’ to ‘Yondu’ to ‘Dad’ in Quill’s eyes, and even after all this time he’s still not sure whether or not he’s happy with that evolution of names.

He’s not about to complain, however, seeing as Quill knows a lot of embarrassing stories and has no qualms telling anyone within earshot about the one time Yondu had passed out drunk, ass in the air and clad in nothing but his boxers and boots.

Sometimes he wonders what Quill’s up to, because the damn girl takes her sweet time calling them and never answers when they try to check up on her, but Yondu doesn’t worry too much.

After all, their space princess had grown into a star queen with her own ship, her own crew, and a hundred Ravager clans at her back.


	17. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still without a beta, so lemme know if I've missed something~

Peter dreams of being aboard a ship named the _Eclector_ , and of being part of a crew captained by a man named Yondu Udonta.

He dreams about a tall, scraggly man named Kraglin who tries to be nice to him, but more often than not is a pain in the ass with an uncontrollable urge to fight anyone and anything.

And he dreams of working alongside friends and pseudo-family, of freedom as Yondu or Kraglin takes him out in an M-Ship to do stupid stunts that more often than not make Peter sick to his stomach, and of contentedness as he listens to Yondu weave tales of exotic places.

Every morning, when Peter wakes to his father’s voice or Mantis gently pushing his mind into wakefulness, that happiness and freedom he’d felt in those dreams dissipates into nothing but wishful thinking followed by a lingering feeling of _wrongness_ around him (like he shouldn’t be here...like he’s in danger).

\---

After spending days awake and in pain as his father syphons his energy, Peter dreams about Yondu comforting him or telling him stories to combat the lingering fear after a nightmare.

Sometimes the dreams feel too real (like a memory instead of a dream). Other times they feel more like something his mind made up to comfort him in place of his father's lack of compassion and love. 

He doesn't know which dreams he hates the most -the ones where the images are fuzzy and the voices muffled to the point he easily forgets moments after waking up, or the dreams that leave him wanting for days on end for something better. 

\---

Peter doesn’t remember anything from before he turned eleven, and he believes his father when he’s told why. 

“Your mother was sick when she had you,” his father tells him, “and she passed that on to you.”

Peter nods along, sadness creeping through his veins as he thinks of the mother he never knew.

“You were so sick for such a long time and I didn’t know how to help you. That’s why you were in stasis for so long. I had to find a way to _cure_ you.”

He says the word ‘cure’ like it has a double meaning, but Peter can’t figure out what that other meaning is or why his father needs one. 

He doesn’t question his father, though. The story makes sense, so there’s no reason to.

You can’t have memories of a time you weren’t even awake for.

\---

Peter sees a man standing in the main hall, arms crossed and scowling, blue skin and red eyes disjointing the muted browns and greys of the palace. 

The man is a Ravager ( _dangerous, manipulative, cruel, cold-hearted_ , his mind chants at him in his father’s voice) and Peter knows the man’s only here to cause trouble. Peter feels a sudden urge to hide before he's spotted.

But then the man sees him hiding behind a pillar and runs to sweep Peter in a warm and painfully tight hug. 

The moment he grabs hold of Peter, there’s a flash of memories.

Days spent learning star charts and strange languages, and how to shoot and fight. 

Laughing at some dumb joke Yondu makes before telling one of his own that leaves both Yondu and Kraglin falling off their chairs. 

Listening to the soft, melodic whistling from the other side of the bed as Yondu attempts to soothe Peter back to sleep after a nightmare.

The man in his dreams isn’t a subconscious thing -he’s _real_ and _there_ and Peter can almost feel Yondu’s heartache when the Centaurian breathes out Peter’s name like a prayer.

Peter tries not to cry as he returns the hug. He wants to leave with Yondu, to escape his father’s clutches and live freely with the people he’s starting to remember. 

He doesn’t want to be in pain anymore.

But the guards have seen them and soon Yondu’s ripped away from him and dragged out of the palace, screaming and cursing at Peter’s father the whole way to his ship.

Peter wonders why he suddenly has the urge to cry out for Yondu to save him. Then his father enters the room, face set in an angry scowl as he turns to Peter.

He feels a brief flash of pain and the memories of Yondu, his ship, and his crew are gone.

That night, Peter has nightmares of a bald woman with blue-green eyes, reaching out for him with a shaking, pale hand as he flees the room.

Of watching people he thinks he should know freeze in the vacuum of space. 

Of his father grabbing his arm so tight it _breaks_ as he’s pulled away from a bleeding man with blue skin and blood-red eyes.

Of a blazing bright light and immeasurable pain.

\---

Peter sees a man out in the main chamber standing face to face with his father, snarling and gnashing his teeth in anger. He hears his name from them both, but he's been warned to stay as far away as he can from anyone who isn't his father or Mantis, so he doesn't try to eavesdrop or move closer than he already is. 

A part of him vaguely remembers suffering because he'd allowed a visitor to touch him, making him shiver. 

Peter knows the man is a Ravager, the flames sewn onto the sleeve of his jacket are proof enough of that. His father told him stories of Ravagers, making sure Peter understood how manipulative, cruel, and cold-hearted they are.

He knows the man is dangerous (though, at the same time, curiously familiar), with his sharp metal-capped teeth and arrow glowing red at his hip, and Peter’s not allowed near the dangerous people who visit because he needs to be healthy and whole so he can help his father keep his magic.

So he turns away from the scene and walks back to his room.

Later, he dreams of a blue skinned, red eyed man drowning himself in booze, asking the air what he’d done so wrong to lose his boy to a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the month-long stall in updating this. Life's been kicking my ass and, between my laptop being stolen, my dog dying, and helping my grandmother after her stroke, I haven't had a second to myself to do anything. However, I may have another chapter ready to go, so it (probably) won't be long until the next update~


	18. Introspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Anon that wanted something Yondu-centric~  
> Again, no beta, so lemme know if I mixed something up

Yondu Udonta was feeling disconcertingly unsettled in his own ship. A sensation he hadn’t experienced since he’d gained possession of it after a lengthy, and somewhat painful, few decades under Stakar’s captaincy. 

He’d spent a good amount of time trying to erase any trace of the man from the _Eclector_ , and even thought about trying to sell the alcohol, blood, rust, and smoke soaked heap. But there had always been something more important to do and after a while it seemed not worth the effort or trouble to upgrade.

So he ignored the shadow of Stakar that lurked in the darker corners and went about his days as if he didn't have vivid memories of all the black anger that had suffused his early years and the grief that followed quickly on its heels.

They were old things, unimportant in the overall path his life and choices had taken him down.

Far worse things had happened outside the walls of the _Eclector_ then had happened in them. It was something he told himself over and over, until it became more truth to him than not.

Maybe his old Captain had been happy there once, fighting his own way through the galaxy with a small group of pre-Ravager misfits. Yondu had never had the nerve to ask.

\---

Yondu knew that the half-rotted ex-flagship Stakar had thrust upon him wasn’t a home. It was a place to lay his head, to make his mark, to grow and learn and fight his way through whatever life threw at him, but it would never be _home_. 

He doubted it had ever been one.

Through the years, Yondu had grown used to the routine his life had formed around him. It was a reliable thing, and even if he couldn't truly admit to it making him happy, Yondu was at the very least not miserable (a fact that did much in the way of easing the creeping loneliness that sometimes plagued him when he let his mind wander).

But then came the boy.

It was off-putting how a loud and chaotic child could completely disrupt the already dangerously chaotic bubble Yondu had worked so hard to construct around himself.

Yondu found himself waking early every morning, ready to make his way to the mess for what passed as food that he usually skipped over entirely, just to make sure the boy was eating and in one piece. 

Eventually that lead to eating in his quarters with Peter because the boy had a habit of letting the crew steal food off his plate without a fight, and he was already too skinny to begin with. Yondu much prefered the constant peace of mind it gave him to know the boy was eating. 

As stern and quick-tempered as Yondu tended to be, he knew he would continue to secretly worry over the boy’s health, even if he was a Terran half-god that had been doomed to die since his first breath.

Although, Yondu couldn't help but admit to himself, Peter was as close to death as he was going to get with Yondu guarding him.

\---

Yondu spent far too much time guessing at the correct course and hoping it turned out for the best than he was entirely comfortable with. He liked being in control of any given situation, knowing what sort of variables were likely to be thrown his way.

It worked for him in most instances, but Yondu had never thought he’d be in this particular one during his lifetime. After all, being a captain of his ship and its slew of crewmembers was vastly different than being set to care for one individual.

But here and now, the best course of action he was able to settle on was to plan and act accordingly. Not something Yondu was terribly prone to doing, but also not unheard of. 

And so he had been forced to establish new routines, and to navigate the minefield that was a collection of both his and Peter’s varied issues -ie: Peter’s annoying tendency to ignore the ‘flight’ in ‘fight-or-flight’, and Yondu’s struggle to articulate exactly what he meant without resorting to yelling or threats. 

They bickered, gave each other the cold shoulder, and nagged each other into half-hearted, reluctant apologies, but eventually it gave way to a wary sort-of friendship.

The training and lessons helped. It gave Yondu peace of mind and would serve as a valuable skill for the boy to have. And, despite a slow and rocky start, Yondu honestly believed Peter was good enough to defend himself should it come to that.

Boy was a natural with guns, surprisingly, and after a while Yondu managed to teach Peter how to control his natural instinct to fight anyone who so much as thought of him funny.

Peter had already done remarkably well at keeping his emotions in check when the dumber crew members decided he was worth picking on. Which, while good for the boy, meant that Yondu had spent much of his time threatening said assholes so they wouldn’t retaliate. 

And then there was Kraglin.

As much as Yondu could see how his First Mate helped in teaching and keeping an eye on the boy, he couldn’t help but wish it didn't come with the attachment.

The first time he’d checked on Peter in the hangar, where he’d foisted the boy onto the crew there and told them to put Peter to work (with Kraglin keeping a watchful eye, of course), he had to admit that the boy was obviously comfortable there. 

And, given the evidence that Peter allowed Kraglin such freedoms as hair-ruffling and hugs without so much as a flinch and that Kraglin didn't hesitate in playing with the boy’s Walkman (a privilege Yondu knew few were granted), Yondu would just have to resign himself to enduring Kraglin’s odd desire to become Peter’s pseudo-brother.

\---

As the months trudged on, bringing with them more jobs and pay than they knew what to do with, Yondu noticed Peter was beginning to settle somewhat into his new home. 

Just to make sure, however, he allowed himself a quick peek into Peter’s room while the boy was somewhere in the bowels of the ship with Kraglin. 

There were manuals and ship blueprints strewn about on the desk, clothing littering the floor, and even a few trinkets on the shelves. And while was still a very sparse looking space, it no longer looked as if it was uninhabited. 

Yondu carefully closed the door behind him as he left, contemplating the odd mix of contentment and wrong-footedness swirling in his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna thank y'all for the lovely and kind comments~ You've been so patient with me and for that I'm grateful <3 I do have a favor to ask of you guys, though. I wanna rename this series of fics (as the chapters are going to slowly become more than one-worded prompts), but I can't really come up with a good name for it. If you guys can think of something, lemme know!
> 
> Fun fact: Bits of this drabble were taken or inspired by lines from an unfinished fic I wrote after I watched GOTG for the first time and an unfinished HP fic I wrote when I was twelve~


	19. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part for Dreams (Ch 17).

Peter turns thirteen and something shifts in the air around him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a wall shimmer from gold to copper. When he turns to stare at it, it’s still gold. 

The vast window showing his father’s ever-stretching garden vibrates, showing a blank red land covered in jagged stones and dead trees. Again he turns to stare and it’s still the same lush, colorful landscape he’s always known.

Peter stares up at the ceiling, wondering if it were about to change as well or if he’s just going crazy.

He blinks, and the tiled mosaic depicting the heavens beyond the planet isn’t there. It’s just a gaping, empty hole. He blinks again and the mosaic is back.

Peter’s heart hammers in his chest, but he tells himself it’s not real. That he’s just tired.

There’s a smell of death that follows him around for the rest of the day and everything he eats tastes almost rotten. 

But it’s not real. 

He’s just tired.

\---

Six men dressed in green shove a small boy at his father’s feet and sneer something in their garbled tongue. Peter absently scratches at the scar just under his ear as he listens and tries to understand them.

The men leave after they’re paid and the boy asks if Peter’s father is _his_ father and Peter flinches. His father doesn’t like being called anything but ‘sir’ and treats each slip up violently. 

Peter watches his father wrap an arm around the boy’s shoulder with a soft smile, wondering if he’d ever been the recipient of that smile or if he’d always been something to scowl and sneer at.

The two walk from the main hall and out onto the terrace. 

His father is smiling.

The boy is smiling.

There’s a worried feeling gnawing through Peter’s stomach.

He never sees the boy again.

\---

Peter stares out the window, willing it to show him the barren landscape it had before. A tiny yellow bird lands on the branch just outside, but it’s the only thing that changes.

“You’re thinking hard, Peter. Something the matter?” His father asks. Peter doesn’t jump at the man’s sudden entrance. He hasn’t for a while.

“Can I go outside?”

“Whatever for?” He’s scowling again, but Peter never expected anything different. 

Peter tries to smile at his father, but he can’t (when was the last time he’d been able to smile?).

“I won’t go far. Just around the garden.”

His father stares at him. There’s a sudden itch behind Peter’s eye that turns into a slow burning.

“I think you should stay inside today,” he says ominously, “it’s going to rain.”

The once blue sky turns grey. Off in the distance, there’s a roll of thunder.

\---

There’s a little girl standing in the main hall, face wet with tears as she waits for whatever the fates have planned for her in this strange new place. The men who’d delivered her are gone, either too anxious to wait for their pay or not expecting any.

Peter automatically worries for her. 

He finds some hidden courage and glances around the hall before he makes a move. She lets out a tiny squeal as he picks her up, but just clings to his shirt as he carries her to his room. 

His father doesn’t go near his room. It’s safe there.

\---

Aliya is the girl’s name. She’s from Setivus II and her favorite color is green. 

He learns these little things moments before his door opens and his father enters the room, cold fury behind his eyes as he stares down his son. Peter expects to be punished, to be made an example of so Aliya can learn not to cross him. 

But his father just turns his attention to her instead.

“I was looking for you, dear girl.” He says silkily. Her face lights up immediately, the uncertainty and fear gone from her face as she stares up at Peter’s father.

“Those men said you were my daddy. Are you really?” Aliya asks, her voice painfully shy.

Peter flinches and waits for the girl to cry out in agony as Peter had done those few times he’d dared call the man ‘father’. 

But his father just smiles.

Widely. 

Proudly.

“I am, dear child. Now come along, I’ve a world to show you.” Peter refuses to acknowledge the ache of his heart.

He never sees Aliya again, and spends the next unknown amount of days or weeks or possibly even months sleepless and in pain. 

He learns not to go near the new children.

\---

Peter turns fourteen and something shifts.

But instead of the walls and floors and ceilings, it's his father that changes. 

He becomes frustrated when he tries to siphon Peter’s energy, only to realize he’s drawing from a nearly empty well. When Peter speaks, even just a simple, quiet ‘hello’, his father flies into a rage and asks why his only living child has to be so disrespectful.

He rants and raves about how terrible a son Peter is, about how much Peter was hurting him in not being perfect, about how he wishes Peter wasn’t a cruel little brat who kept his father in pain because he refused to harness enough power to heal.

Peter doesn’t understand. He’s trying his hardest, but his own magic is becoming weak. It’s failing and that means _Peter_ is failing, and the weaker his magic gets the more his father hates him.

But Peter gets used to it. Learns from it.

He knows his father doesn’t love him anymore, but he can’t do any more to try and win that love. He’s tried and failed and screwed up and only caused his father more pain and humiliation.

So he doesn’t fight, doesn’t speak, doesn’t remind his father that he’s still there and still a disappointment.

\---

Peter turns fifteen and the something that shifted suddenly snaps.

The golden walls and pillars melt to reveal heavily oxidized copper and bronze and half-rusted metal. The ceilings give way to the sky, the windows fill with cracks and holes and that dead world beyond them.

Gone are the tiles and intricate golden spirals on the floors, in their place are rotted boards soaked in blood and water or holes big enough Peter had to wonder how he hadn’t fallen in.

And then he notices the creature standing in front of the garden doors.

Its head is covered in patches of wiry grey hair growing on the few bits of skin attached to its skull. Its body and arms and legs a disgusting mess of blackened bone, dangling muscle, and patchwork flesh.

He takes a step back as it steps towards him. Peter can see the thing trying to work its hairless and nearly fleshless eyebrows into some mockery of a facial expression.

Peter remembers the few times his father (this _creature_ ) had touched him -a short hug, a quick hair ruffle, a pat on the shoulder that had slowly morphed into slaps and bone-shattering grabs- and feels immensely ill.

His father reaches out a hand (mangled muscle, exposed bone, rotten flesh) and twists his mouth into a grotesque smile.

“I think it’s time we had a talk, Peter.” The monstrosity says with garbled and broken words slipping through a lipless mouth in his father’s voice.

Peter wishes, with all his heart, someone would save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really can't apologize enough for being gone so long. Life's been at my heels constantly, but I've finally gotten a bit of reprieve so I'm able to edit up a few chapters. The next chapter will be a bit different, and will be out tomorrow~ Third part of Dreams will be out as soon as it's finished, but there will more than likely be a chapter or two between.


	20. Bits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a collection of unfinished chapters, things that were too short to be considered chapters, and things I lost interest in writing. They’re all up for grabs if you feel like you can/want to expand them, so if you see one you have an idea for or want to use feel free, and let me know so I can read what you’ve done~ I’d love to see what you guys do with them!

**Scarlet**

Peter earns his first kill at eleven thanks to a crew member with a name he could never pronounce who decided a mutiny would be a great idea. 

He’d caught the man jotting down ideas and plans in a book he kept on him at all times, unaware that the vents and walls and shadowed corners had eyes. After three years aboard the Eclector, Peter knew nearly every nook and cranny.

Peter also knew if this man carried out his plans, he would be right under Yondu and Kraglin on that list. He very much enjoyed living.

He expected the rush of adrenaline, the screaming, and the blood (the more blood on the floor, the deader the threat, Yondu always told him).

But he didn’t expect the numbness that took over as Yondu congratulated him proudly, or the aftermath of his actions -the deep grief, the feeling of guilt, the nausea, the sleepless nights thinking about the lifeless eyes of that ex-crewmate.

He should be walking around with a victorious grin, a cocky attitude, and the feeling of accomplishment as the crew slap him on the back and get shit-faced in his name. 

Instead, he walks around looking like something half-alive and unsure, his hands colored the same scarlet he’d dressed himself in for years.

 

**Soft**

“I can do this, dad, just give me a chance to prove I can!”

“Y’ain’t goin’ an’ that’s that.”

Peter watches Yondu resume giving out orders to the crew going planetside, fists clenched tightly by his sides.

“Captain’s goin’ soft.” He calls with as much muster as he can. The hangar goes quiet, every eye locked on the small trembling Terran boy who’s turned an alarming shade of red.

“What’d you say boy?” Yondu’s voice is a deadly growl.

“You aren’t letting me prove myself.”

“Ain’t what goin’ soft means, Quill. I ain’t wasting perfectly good Terran on some critter you didn’t see sneakin’ up on ya.”

“You’re scared I’m gonna get hurt.”

“I _know_ yer gonna get hurt, an’ the crew ain’t actin’ like yer bodyguards, so how about you shut up about provin’ _anything_ until yer old enough not to wet the damn bed after a nightmare.”

“Gone soft!” Peter yells into the crowd of assembled crewmembers. 

“It’s a big-boy mission, Quill. Means y’gotta be taller than my damn hip before I even _think_ about lettin’ y’go.” 

Yondu sounds dangerously close to just locking Peter up in the cargo hold, but Peter stares defiantly at him. He’s burning to prove himself in a way that doesn’t include a bucket and a rag.

“Y’know what? Fine.” Yondu blusters, “Go out there an’ get yer ass handed to y’on a silver damn platter.”

Peter cheers and runs off towards one of the readied M-ships, his brand new blaster bouncing against his hip as he goes.

“Cap’n, I don’t think-”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Obfonteri. Ready up and get the job done.” Yondu’s already in a foul mood, so Kraglin shuts up and salutes before heading off towards his own M-ship. “An’ Kraglin.”

“Aye, Cap’n?” Kraglin turns to face the fiery gaze of his captain. 

“My boy gets hurt, your ass is on the line. Y’hear?”

“Loud an’ clear, Cap’n.” 

 

**Pillow**

The first time Yondu catches Peter in his quarters, the kid’s passed out on top of his only good pillow, snoring away like a proper Ravager.

Yondu tries to move him, but the kid just grunts and curls further into a ball.

“Y’got yer own bunk, brat, go make use of it.” Yondu gripes.

“Can’t.” 

“Why the hell not? You piss the bed or somethin’?”

“Torik threw up on my bed.”

“The hell he doin’ in yer room?”

“He’s drunk. Thought it was his room.” It was time Torik was introduced to Bog Duty for a while, Yondu decides. 

“Bunk with Kraglin, then. How the hell you even get in here?”

“Kraglin’s drunk, too. An’ last time I stayed with drunk Kraglin, he thought I was that Calurnian girl he was flirting with.” Peter lazily opens his eyes and grins. “An’ you use the same code for your _Warbird_.”

“Whatever.” Yondu grumbles. “I’m goin’a get clean, y’better be gone by the time I’m out.”

Peter lets out a loud, jaw-cracking yawn and nods. 

\---

Peter is absolutely _not_ gone by the time Yondu’s done showering. He’s still sleeping on Yondu’s favorite pillow (though now he’s smooshed himself against the headboard, stretched out on his stomach), but by this point the Centaurian is too tired to fight with him.

So Yondu does the only thing he _can_ do in the situation (other than the more obvious choice of just sleeping on the other side of the bed). He uses the squishy, sleeping Terran as a replacement.

Kid’s got a bit of a bony back, but a little shifting and he’s nearly as comfortable as the pillow under him used to be. 

A few moments later and Yondu falls asleep, the sound of Peter’s heartbeat under his ear.

 

**School**

Peter sits at his desk, waiting impatiently for his parents to show up. They promised they would, after all, and this was their first orientation day as a family. He knew they’d be late, seeing as Yondu had to go across the city to pick up Kraglin, be he didn’t know they’d be _this_ late.

The other kids are chatting with their parents, introducing their friends with vague pointing and retelling (for possibly the thousandth time) their adventures with said friends. 

After another twenty minutes, Mrs Baker gives Peter a sad look. Peter knows that look from before; back when everyone knew his mother was dying and all they could do was offer him pity and half-hearted condolences.

“Welcome everybody to third-grade orientation! I’d like for everyone to introduce themselves; we’ll start with the back row.” She points towards the back of the room, starting the line of introductions at Malcolm Waver, his mother Molly and father Rick. 

As they go, Mrs Baker kneels down beside Peter’s desk and offers him a smile.

“I’m sorry they didn’t come, Peter.”

“They’ll be here, they promised.”

As if to prove his point, the classroom door swings open to reveal a harried-looking Yondu and Kraglin. Their appearance causes the rest of the room to fall silent, and it’s no wonder why.

Yondu’s scowling, wearing his favorite red leather jacket that’s covered in all sorts of pins and patches, making him the picture of a hard-core biker boss. Next to him, Kraglin’s covered in grease and grime, his coveralls pulled down to his waist and his mohawk covered in what looks like red paint chips.

Together, they paint an imposing figure, and it shows in the nervous (and somewhat confused) faces of the other parents in the room.

“Sorry we’re late, teach, got stuck in traffic for a damn half-mile.” Yondu grumbles. 

“Don’t cuss, boss, we’re in a classroom.” Kraglin admonishes him with a light elbow jab. Yondu doesn’t apologize, just shrugs his shoulders.

When he was younger, Peter had questioned why Kraglin sometimes called Yondu ‘boss’ instead of some cutesy pet name or even just his name. Kraglin said it was habit; he’d worked for Yondu for so long that even after they got hitched, he still habitually called Yondu ‘boss’ or ‘sir’.

Yondu claimed he didn’t care about pet names because wasn’t really the affectionate type. Unless, of course, you count the fact he cried at their wedding, constantly snuggled, and was the biggest softie Peter had ever known (but Peter liked living too much to remind Yondu of all that).

“Oh, uh, it’s fine Mr…”

“Udonta.” Kraglin supplies as he looks around the pastel classroom in horror. Peter’s sure this is the first time the man’s seen so many bright colors in one place.

“I think you may have the wrong room, Mr Udonta.”

“And why’s that?”

“I don’t teach anyone with that surname.”

“A’course y’don’t.” Yondu states with a scoff. He doesn’t elaborate (just another one of his charms) and Mrs Baker looks more confused than ever as to why these two gruff looking men are standing in her classroom. 

“Then I’ll have to ask you to-”

“There ya are, Pete!” Kraglin calls loud enough Peter can hear several of the people behind him jump.

“Hi, papa,” Peter mumbles with a small wave, officially embarrassed.

“Oh, you’re, uh, Peter’s guardians?”

“ _Parents_. And yes, ma’am.” Kraglin answers before Yondu can (Peter’s sure it’s because Yondu’s unable to say anything without the words ‘damn’, ‘fuck’, or ‘shit’ included).

“Okay...well, why don’t you two have a seat. We’re just starting our introductions.” Kraglin pulls Yondu over to where Peter’s sitting. They take a seat on either side of him, looking comically huge in the third-grader seats.

After a while, Kraglin starts getting bored and takes to pinching Peter under the table, drawing odd looks from the surrounding parents as Peter wiggles around to try and avoid the man’s spidery fingers. 

Yondu shushes them when Peter’s giggles get a little too loud, but he looks close to laughing himself, so they know he’s not really annoyed.

Finally, after ages of waiting, Mrs Baker turns to them with a smile.

“How about you two? Care to introduce yourselves?”

“Name’s Yondu Udonta. I operate and own a bike shop downtown.”

“I’m Kraglin, and I work for him.” 

“How long have you two been married?”

Peter just wants to hide at this point because he knows, with his dads being who they are, they’re going to do something embarrassing that’s going to leave Peter red-faced for days.

“For ten wonderful years.” Kraglin gives his husband a sweet look that Yondu returns. Peter groans and hides his face in his hands. 

After living with them for six years, they’re experts in embarrassing him so of course they gotta make goo-goo eyes at each other over his head in a room full of strangers. 

“That’s very sweet. You two adopted him after his mother died, I’m guessing.” Immediately Yondu’s smile drops and Peter knows his new teacher just screwed up.

“His mama was our surrogate, kid’s ours.” Apparently, Mrs Baker can sense the tension rolling off Yondu, so she doesn’t question them further. Instead, she thanks them and quickly starts to question the next couple.

“Dad, it’s okay. She’s just curious.”

“Curious or not, it ain’t right to speak’a the dead. Especially knowin’ she ain’t been dead long.”

Kraglin grimaces. Meredith’s a sore spot for all three of them (Peter especially), so hearing Yondu speak so bluntly about her death is more than a little disconcerting. 

“Yondu, I don’t think-”

“Shut the hell up, Krags.” The man growls. His scowl turns into a sheepish look as he seems to realize what he’s said and mumbles a small apology to Peter and Kraglin.

Yondu’s dangerously close to yelling right now, and Peter knows it’s only a matter of time before things escalate to that point. One wrong move and Yondu’ll tear this place apart.

That move comes in the form of the couple sitting at the next desk.

“I can’t believe such a nice boy comes from such disgusting parents.” The husband whispers.

“I know!” The wife whispers back, concern lacing her voice. “You don’t think they hurt him, do you?”

If there’s one thing people learn about Yondu Udonta (other than his unhealthy obsession with collecting knick-knacks), it’s how much he loves his family and how pissed off he can get if someone threatens it. 

This couple is talking about him and his husband _hurting_ their own son and, to Yondu, this counts as a massive threat.

Kraglin’s standing in the same moment Yondu leaps out of his seat and grasps desperately at his husband’s arm.

“I heard what they said too, Yondu, but y’know it’s just talk.”

The last thing Peter wants is a fight on his first day in a new school, so he stands up and grabs his father’s hand. Immediately, Yondu looks down, his face softening as Peter stares up at him.

“Please don’t, dad.” The room is deathly quiet, as if everyone was waiting for something to happen.

“We’re leavin’.” 

 

**Time / Money**

“Dad, look!” Peter holds up his newly rebuilt blaster with a huge smile.

“S’nice, kiddo.”

“Y’didn’t even look at it, dad.”

“Sure I did. It’s real shiny, y’did a good job.” Peter looks down at the gun in his hands and frowns. It’s not shiny at all.

“Dad-”

“Look, Pete. Time is money and I ain’t got enough’a either. Go show Kraglin.”

The problem is he’d already shown Kraglin his newly built blaster, and the First Mate had been proud as hell (considering he’d been the one to show Peter how to do it), and told him to show his dad so _he_ could be proud, too.

Yondu’s already back to staring through rosters and possible work, so Peter gives up.

\---

“So what’d the cap’n say?”

“He said it looked real shiny.”

“ _Shiney_? Thing looks like it got put through a broken buffer. Uh, no offense, Pete.”

“Nah, it’s ugly. S’probably why he didn’t care.” Peter sighs, placing the blaster on his nearly overcrowded shelf. “He didn’t even look at it, thought you said he’d be proud.”

“He’s a busy man, Pete. I’m sure once he gets a second to himself t’look at it, he’ll love it.”

“Whatever.” Kraglin watches the boy leave the room, a frown of his own appearing, and comes up with a plan. 

\---

The crew joins in on Kraglin’s plan, making sure to praise and congratulate the boy whenever possible and for whatever reason. 

Yondu doesn’t seem to notice the change, and even Kraglin is getting tired of him ignoring Peter. It was excusable for a while, what with jobs popping up left and right, rookies to train, and ship repairs -but now, with almost everything done, it just felt mean.

Peter’s a clingy kid, had been since he stopped biting everyone who got within range, so having his adoptive dad pretty much ignoring him was tearing the kid apart and anyone that knew Peter could see it.

\---

“Hey, Kraglin, you seen someone sniffin’ around the halls?”

“There’s a good hundred crew on this side of the ship, Kro, wanna elaborate? That means I want you to explain better’n that.” Kraglin says at Kro’s lost look.

“Oh, uh, it’s just I lost a handful’a units an’ ain’t no one been near my locker but me.” Kraglin frowns. This was just about the sixth time someone had come to him with the same problem.

“I’ll poke around an’ talk to the Cap’n, but for now just keep a better eye on your shit.” Kor nods and wanders off towards the engine room, leaving Kraglin to think over their little theft problem.

It was a simple rule on any Ravager ship that you don’t take what belongs to other crew, and you especially don’t steal their damn units because that led to a swift spacing, so either there was a dumb sonuvabitch sneaking around, or the crew were just terrible at keeping tabs on their stuff. 

He doubted it was the latter, only because units were damn important and no one was dumb enough to just leave them laying around.

Kraglin makes his way to the bridge, thinking as he goes as to how he can bring this to Yondu’s attention.

Yondu would just brush it off if Kraglin told him the crew was missing some units. He’d give some long rant about how ‘ _the fuckin’ idjits can’t even hold on to their damn money’_ and that would be that.

Kraglin has to be sneaky about this, get the Captain to worry about someone stealing his shit. And, yeah, he hates lying to Yondu, but it’s the only way to get results so he’s got to fib at least a little.

“Cap’n, got a bit of a problem.” 

“That we do, Obfonteri. But how ‘bout you start.”

“Bunch’a the crew comin’ up to me, sayin’ someone’s stealing their shit from the lockers.”

“What kind’a shit?”

“Units, weapons, anything shiny.”

“Catch the fucker stealin’ shit, then. What’d I promote you for?”

“I thought I should bring it to your attention, Cap’n, ‘cause whoever’s doin’ it seems to be movin’ through rooms too. Gettin’ mighty close t’your quarters.” 

That’s all it takes to get Yondu’s attention. He’s got a room full of shiny trinkets and knick-knacks just waiting for the wrong person to get their grubby little hands on.

Sure, the Captain’s Quarters are locked up tighter than a damn Nova vault, but Yondu is nothing if not paranoid when it comes to his keepsakes.

\---

“Consider that little thievin’ problem we got officially solved.” Yondu says a few weeks later.

“Cap’n?”

“Woke up this mornin’ to see Pete holdin’ a bag’a units. Kid tried to ‘buy some time to hang out’, whatever the hell that means.”

“Ah, well, t’be fair, Cap’n…” Kraglin pauses, not sure if he would be crossing some kind of line with Yondu. After all, it was technically ‘family business’ and not really Kraglin’s place to butt in.

“Say what y’gotta say, Obfonteri.”

“It’s just, you’ve been ignorin’ Pete for the past couple weeks. He pro’ly just thought it was the only way t’get you t’notice him.”

Yondu stares at him a moment before heaving a sigh.

“Shit. Now I’m feelin’ guilty as hell. Sent the kid off to his room after yellin’ at’im the better part of an hour.”

“I’d best see to’im, then.”

“Nah, I’ll go. I fucked up, so I gotta deal with the consequences.”

 

**Alike**

When Yondu looked at Peter he saw Ego. Everything, from the boy’s hair to the slight tilt of his eyes to those cursed dimples, lead back to Ego.

Yondu knew this because he’d stared at Meredith long and hard enough to know every detail of her face because he knew he would be the only one who cared to tell the boy about his mom.

He’d expected a clone of the woman with brown hair and green-blue eyes (how could he not, when he already knew how dominant Terran genes were), but here was a boy with red hair, blue eyes, and the same chaos burning behind his gaze as his father.

And as he gets older, Peter becomes more and more like Ego. 

He becomes a master of smooth-talking and manipulation, can get anyone to do something for him, he becomes cocky and narcissistic and headstrong, and, while he still has a heart of tarnished gold, he learns to kill without mercy. 

No matter how hard Yondu tries to train it out of him, Peter’s slowly but surely earning the same back-of-the-mind hate for everything in his path.

 

**Special**

It was Kraglin who suspected first.

He saw or heard everything that went on around the ship, standing on his captain’s right, working among the crew, or watching over Peter as the kid worked his way into Yondu’s good graces.

Kraglin noticed that when Peter got cut or bruised, it healed at a normal rate. Peter was nervous and wary for ages after every hurt, hiding the scars he’d earned when he could under long-sleeved shirts and jackets.

Kala, a twelve-year-old A'askvarii and the second child they’d delivered, had a habit of turning bits of scrap metal into flowers.

Anjor, a five-year-old Gegku was the fourth child, caused objects to burn or levitate when he was angry or scared.

And Balk, whose age they never learned and whose race was unpronounceable was the fifth child (and the last before Peter), made things turn different colors or shapes when he was bored.

All three of them had healed quicker than they could even start crying.

But when Kraglin had Peter shoved at him for afternoons of babysitting or training, he noticed nothing moved that shouldn't. There were no flowers littering the floor in place of scrap, no floating or burn-scarred things, and nothing with the wrong color or shape.

Kraglin was a smart man, no matter what anyone had to say about him, or how dumb his accent made him sound. So he knew Peter wasn’t like his siblings -knew the boy wasn’t special.

And Ego only kept the special ones alive.

Yondu tells the crew some bullshit story about the boy’s father suddenly refusing to pay them, about how the boy was theirs now and how he’d be a proper Ravager.

The crew takes it in stride with minimal tantrums, cursing, and threats, but Kraglin knows better than to believe that story.

Yondu catches his eye and gives him a shallow, solemn nod, and Kraglin suddenly feels as though he could finally breathe.

Yondu already knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if you guys feel like you can/want to expand on these, feel free~ I can't do anything with'em and they're all just sitting in my documents wasting away. This chapter may be subject to additions, so keep an eye out. I may make a note about an addition in later chapters.  
> If you guys do use one or more of these in a fic or as a separate fic, let me know and I'll come check it out!


	21. Star Sound

It was last shift on the _Eclector_ , the time in which everyone aside from a small skeleton crew and those few whose species never needed sleep piled on the floor of what someone, sometime during the ship’s lifetime, had dubbed the ‘bunkroom’. 

Here, Peter was surrounded on all sides by sixty-odd crew members, each snoring or talking in their sleep or just generally being noisy as they got comfortable on their thin blankets or whatever crewmate they’d passed out on.

He can’t sleep, even after nearly two hours of laying on the floor with his eyes screwed shut, hoping that if he pretended long enough it would actually happen.

But the noise is almost deafening and the smell could make anyone’s nose hairs curl, and no matter how tired he was, or how much he tossed and turned, Peter couldn’t get comfortable or in a position where there wasn’t some meaty alien squishing him into another meaty alien.

So he gives up trying to sleep, squirms out of the mass of sleeping crew, wraps his own thin blanket around his shoulders, and walks towards the only place he knows will be devoid of life or sound or the stench of sweaty aliens.

Peter pauses outside the door, glances down the hallway, and contemplates whether or not he really wants to go. If one of the night-crew catches him, they’ll take him to Yondu and Yondu will more than likely lock him in the vents for a few days for disturbing his sleep.

He goes because he can't think of anything better to do.

\---

The star room, an empty, dimly-lit room at the top of the ship, was quiet and pleasantly cold as Peter pushed through the barely-used and half-rusted door. 

He had come to the room in hopes of seeing a shooting star, to watch the ship swim through nebular clouds, and maybe even see a familiar planet or two -anything to take his mind off the exhaustion swimming at the back of his mind.

But there are no stars or nebulae beyond the window, just a vast void and the random skeletons of ships long destroyed. It takes him a moment of confusion to realize they’re on the edge of space, just outside the line between starlit sky and utter blackness. 

The sight of nothingness gives off an oddly eerie feeling, like the aftermath of watching a late-night horror movie. 

Things move in the empty corners and darkened halls, random lights flash in the corner of your eye even though it’s impossible, and the odd creak and groan of your home send frightening images to your brain of men and monsters lurking in the dark just behind you.

Peter’s frozen stiff at the sight and suddenly wishes he’d just stayed in the bunkroom. 

“Ain’t you supposed to be sleepin’?” The sound of Yondu’s voice echoing through the empty room startles a short squeal of fear from Peter as he turns to stare at the man.

“Not too smart, wanderin’ around the ship without a weapon, son. Folk still ain’t too keen on you.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“The hell you doin’ here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Wanted to see the stars.” Peter winces at how pathetic that excuse (and his voice) sounds. What kind of Ravager sought comfort in seeing something that existed around them every moment of almost every day.

“Nothin’ out this way ‘cept void.”

“I know.” 

“So why you still here?”

“Because it’s quiet and doesn’t smell like feet and sweaty armpits.” 

“I can read you like a damn book, boy. Ain’t just the smell that’s got you riled up about yer sleepin’ conditions.”

“Like you care.” Peter bites out. He’s tired and cranky and, for some inexplicable reason, angry at the lack of _anything_ beyond the glass. Yondu doesn’t rise to the bait, just stubbornly crosses his arms and stares him down. Peter stares right back, unwilling to let himself be cowed.

After an eternity of silence, Yondu stalks forward until he’s standing nearly toe-to-toe with Peter. Peter’s 98% sure he’s about to get the hiding of his life when Yondu reaches out for him, instincts and memory making him flinch and screw his eyes shut.

But he doesn’t get slapped or cuffed or...anything. Instead, Yondu simply rests his hand on Peter’s head, heavy and warm and comforting and not at all what Peter ever expected from the man.

When Peter opens his eyes he sees Yondu crouched down in front of him, worry etched in the lines around his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Pete?” Something in Yondu’s calm, comforting voice dissolves the rest of Peter’s resolve and he suddenly feels as if he’d been without sleep for days instead of hours. 

The feeling settles somewhere in his chest and throat, and everything he’d felt and ignored comes crashing back to him in an instant. The confusion, the frustration, the loneliness, the fear...

He wants to go home, he wants his mom, he wants-

“I just wanna stop being so scared all the time.” He says miserably, valiantly trying to stop the tears running down his cheeks as his words echo around the room, sounding more and more defeated as they slowly taper off into a stifling silence.

Peter looks down at the floor, not wanting to see Yondu’s sneer as he tells him to suck it up or that life isn’t fair so he’d better get used to it. 

He can feel the heat of embarrassment crawling along his face as he realizes how stupid Yondu must think he is, crying like a baby just because he’s scared. 

Peter hears the swish of Yondu’s jacket as he stands and watches his battle-scarred boots move out of sight. He hopes Yondu isn’t going to space him for being weak or-

“I want this ship back in Starline five minutes ago.” Peter looks up in surprise to see Yondu replacing the wall-mounted handset before stalking back over to Peter to stare out the window. 

They watch as the void slowly gives way to stars and colorful nebulae, the familiar sight of starfield and lights seeming to welcome the _Eclector_ back into their depths.

The sight takes Peter’s breath away, and the creeping feeling of fear recedes into awe.

“Is there sound in space?” Peter blurts as he watches a nebula come into view. He remembers watching _Alien_ and hearing the line “ _in space, no one can hear you scream_ ” and had wondered, ever since, if that were true.

“Aye, there is. But it ain’t the kind’a shit anyone wants t’hear.” Peter gives him a confused look. “Means there’s some scary shit makin’ a helluva lot of racket out there.”

“I don’t hear anything.” Yondu grins at Peter’s disbelieving frown.

“That’s ‘cause y’can’t hear nothin’ ‘less you got the right tools.” He says, pulling a small hand-held device from one of his many pockets.

“This outdated hunk’a junk is called a Whistler. It can pick up shortwave transmissions from whatever y’point it at.” Peter watches him fiddle with the Whistler for a moment, exhaustion forgotten. 

There’s nothing but a few beeps and clicks as Yondu points it towards the window before Peter can hear a far-off hum, like the sound of whale song pitched low and slowed down.

“People say that’s what y’hear if y’got yer comm open an’ yer too far from yer ship.” Yondu says before Peter can ask, “They say that sound buries itself in yer head an’ drives y’mad.”

“What’s making it?”

Yondu shrugs, “Some think it’s the wailin’ of dyin’ Celestials. Others think it’s some kind’a giant critter what lives out in voidspace. No one’s knowin’ for sure, an’ ain’t no one for findin’ out.”

On Earth, he knew, people referred to the stars as celestial bodies, and he could remember his mom talking about Heaven being celestial -but he couldn’t imagine any star or place sounding like _that_.

Space was scary enough as it is, and Kraglin had told Peter before that there was still quite a bit of the universe and its outer rims that were still unexplored, so the thought of some giant monster floating around the void they’d just left sends a shiver of fear down his spine. 

“There’s aren’t really monsters out there, right?”

“No clue, kid. Could be, though, seein’ as no one’s gone out far enough to see if there is or not.” Yondu gives a little shrug, but there’s nervousness in the way his eyes roam along the distinct end of Starline.

“Some’a those ships out there ain’t got a reason t’be there. Bunch’a them’s from the other side’a the universe an’ no one knows how they got here.” Before Peter can respond, there’s a sudden flicker of light from the edge of the window.

“Here we go, Pete. Think y’might like this’n.” Yondu says with a grin, pointing the device at a bright star a dozen or more klicks from the ship. It looks like a normal star until, suddenly, it bursts into a blindingly brilliant supernova.

The device buzzes in Yondu’s hands, and he’s hurriedly turning dials and pushing buttons until there’s a static-filled rumbling. Another moment and the light and sound are gone, with nothing but bits of sparkling star-dust and a soft tinkling sound in their wake.

“That there is a damn rare thing t’catch.” Yondu says, almost reverently. “Only the third time I got t’see one.”

“Do stars not do that a lot?”

“They’re nearly constantly goin’ nova or supernova, but it’s damn rare to see it when it happens. Y’can see it planetside, but even then it happened a million years’r more b’fore y’even see the light.” 

Peter lets out an awed sound, eyes wide as he takes in the glittering debris from the explosion.

“Best be glad that there was a small star or we’d had t’jump.” Yondu says after a moment.

“Why?”

“The bigger the star the bigger the boom, Pete. Means if it were bigger, it’d’ve set off a shockwave that’d start the stars around it goin’ Nova. This ship c’n handle one or two, but not a klick or so’s worth.” 

That alone sets off a series of rapid-fire questions from Peter. He’d always loved learning about space in school, but human knowledge was limited to surrounding planets and not much else.

Yondu answered Peter’s endless questions the best he could, the noise of the device creating an almost eerie backtrack to their conversation. 

Eventually, feeling safe and warm curled up against Yondu’s side with the man’s stories and the sound of the universe around them, Peter falls asleep.

He never asked why Yondu was there, though he’d wanted to. 

Maybe, like Peter, Yondu couldn’t sleep through the noise and stifling constriction of the ship’s narrow halls. Maybe he felt trapped by some sudden, jolting claustrophobic feeling that left him wide awake and staring at his rust covered ceiling. 

He wondered what could keep the man up at night that made him seek out silence and empty sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the amazing comments, it means so much to me that you guys enjoy these little drabbles <3


	22. Dying

It’s impossible for anyone to think something could bring down the great Yondu Udonta, yet there he was, laying in his bed soaked in sweat and his lungs rejecting nearly every breath he takes.

His body’s gone into shock, switching from prickling heat to ice cold in mere seconds. He can’t stop shaking and tearing up and there’s an odd wheeze in the pit of his lungs that he can’t shake no matter how hard he coughs.

Yondu’s dying, and he’s made peace with that. He’s just glad the last thing he’s going to see before he dies is his boy. He makes sure to tell the six-year-old as much. 

“Dad, you’re not dying.” Peter responds.

“I’m leavin’ my ship to you, son. Take good care’a her.”

“Dad, c’mon, you’re just sick.”

“Don’t question yer daddy, boy.” 

“I’m gonna get Kraglin, maybe he can talk some sense into your thick skull.” Peter doesn’t even make it off the bed before Yondu’s hooked an arm around his waist and dragged him back.

“Didn’t no one ever tell you not t’leave yer daddy when he’s dyin’?”

“No, and you ain’t dying.”

“Stop bein’ brave and gush about how cool I am, y’brat.”

“Where’s your comm?” Peter asks as he valiantly tries to wiggle out of Yondu’s grasp. It’s a fruitless effort, however, as even though Yondu’s sick as a dog he’s still got a grip like a steel trap.

“Why?” 

“Because you’re driving me insane. Let _go_.” Peter could now say he knew how a tube of toothpaste felt thanks to how hard Yondu was squeezing him.

“If I let y’go, y’ain’t leavin’ this bed.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll put you on bog duty until y’grow hair on yer chest.”

“Fine! If it’ll get you to stop trying to _squish me to death_ , I’ll stay put.”

True to his word, Yondu releases Peter. Not true to his, however, Peter leaps off the bed as soon as he’s free and begins searching for Yondu’s communicator.

“What’d I say, boy?”

“You won’t remember squat when this is over.”

“I will too, y’little monster.” Yondu says, grumbling about how ‘cruel’ and ‘unjust’ he’s being treated on his deathbed. 

“I’ll take that chance.” Peter lets out a little ‘ _Aha!_ ’ as he finally finds Yondu’s comm and immediately calls Kraglin.

“Hey-a, Pete. How’s the cap’n?”

“Sick as shit and loopy as hell.” Peter says, ignoring the wheezy ‘ _watch yer language_ ’ from Yondu. “Rescue me? Please?”

Kraglin laughs, “Sure, kid. I’ll even bring y’some food.”

\---

“I’m leavin’ the _Eclector_ to you, Krags.” Yondu says the moment Kraglin’s through the door. The Xandarian pauses for a moment before he remembers his captain is delirious as hell.

“I thought you were leaving it to _me_?” Peter grumbles, taking a bowl of something weirdly green from Kraglin. It tastes a little off, but he’s hungry enough to ignore the cook’s usual inability to make something edible.

“I was, but you started actin’ like a brat.”

“Shouldn’t be a brat to yer dad, Pete, not when he’s dyin’.” Kraglin agrees with a solemn nod, throwing Peter a grin when the boy rolls his eyes. 

“I regret everything nice I’ve done for you.”

“You mean that one time you saved me a spot in the mess?” Kraglin laughs.

“Make sure Peter don’t get eaten by the crew when I’m gone.” Yondu groans with a weak cough into his elbow.

“You’re being dramatic, Cap’n.”

“Don’t argue with me, Obfonteri.” Yondu growls, peeking out from under his arm to glare at his First Mate.

“Aye, sir.” 

“Dad, c’mon. Just eat your food and sleep.” Peter begs. He loves his dad, even when he’s being an asshole, but he hasn’t gotten a moment’s rest since Yondu got sick nearly two days ago. 

This, however, sends Yondu off on a tirade about how “food an’ sleep won’t stop me from dyin’ “. Kraglin nods along while shoving the bowl of green mush at Yondu and Peter tries to stifle the urge to smother the Centaurian with a pillow.

Yondu shuts up long enough to eat a few spoonfuls of the mush and then promptly pass out cold.

“What’d you put in his food?” 

“Somethin’ that apparently knocked him out faster than it did you.” Kraglin grins.

Peter nearly gets out a word of protest, but by the time he opens his mouth the sleeping pills kick in and he’s out like a light next to Yondu.

Kraglin heads up to the bridge to notify the crew that their captain is going to be just fine, if not a _little bit_ tetchy in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me waaay too long to finish, and it's a lot less fluffy than I had intended. I make no apologies


	23. Finality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams part 3/3

Yondu starts having nightmares two days after Peter is snatched from the _Eclector_. It only takes that long because there’s too much to do before he can even think of sleep.

His nights are filled with visions of Peter in pain or crying. Of his boy laying on the floor in agony as Ego stands over him, feeding off Peter’s life-force and power to regain his own.

Kraglin complains of similar nightmares, but Yondu knows his First Mate’s come from a fear of what _could_ be happening. 

But Yondu knows Ego far better than he wants to. 

He knows his own nightmares come from fear of what _is_ happening.

\---

When Yondu visits Spartax, he doesn’t go in with any sort of plan other than ‘get back my boy and kick the jackass’ teeth in’. 

He stands in the main hall, grumbling to himself as he waits for Ego to decide Yondu’s worth a moment of his time. 

And then he sees Peter, standing awkwardly behind a solid gold pillar, looking all the world like a frightened child staring down the monster under his bed.

Yondu doesn’t know what comes over him, but in the span of a breath he’s pulling Peter into a hug. He can feel Peter shaking and knows his boy is trying to be strong, trying not to cry even though his shaking gets more pronounced. 

But then he’s roughly pulled away, and the fear in Peter’s eyes return as he watches. He looks as if he wants to call for Yondu but he can’t. 

Yondu curses and screams for Ego as he’s dragged out and flung bodily into his awaiting ship. 

He’s not sure what happens next.

One minute he’s charging at the stone-faced guards, ready to tear them limb from limb and get his boy, the next he’s hovering just outside the planet’s stratosphere with a feeling of unnerving calm.

Yondu blinks, and the planet (and his boy) is gone, leaving voidspace where it once sat.

That night, he drowns himself in drink and asks what he’d done so wrong to lose his boy to a monster.

\---

Yondu learns how to handle his crew when they get antsy or uppity about scouring half the galaxy for one little Terran half-breed, learns what to say and how to say it to get their minds back into the thirst for battle.

“Ain’t no one steal from Ravagers,” he yells out over their heads, “an’ I don’t give a shit if it’s just some Terran brat, ‘cause it ain’t the _point_ of it all. Someone snuck int’a our ship, _stole_ from us, an’ made us look _weak_.”

He can see the crew starting to rally, their anger at being thought of as weak and defenseless in their home turf winning over their anger at being led around the galaxy looking for a kid they barely tolerated.

“I know we had dealings with Ego b’fore, but now the jackass thinks we’re some kind’a friends. Thinks he can come ont’a our ship an’ take what ain’t his no more.”

He goes on, keeping his crew angry and wounded and bloodthirsty, only stopping when he can feel tensions getting high enough for the crew to start in-fighting.

Their pride will make sure that, even though they’re not willing to fight for Peter’s life, they’re willing to fight for something, and that’s all Yondu can hope for.

\---

Yondu’s exhausted nearly every contact and owed favor in his arsenal, and almost runs his own accounts into the ground paying people off for this endeavor, but even then it takes nearly a year before they find the new coordinates for Spartax.

(Yondu briefly wonders why Ego had stopped moving. He has a hunch, but he doesn’t want to be right because it would mean they have less time than he thought.)

By then, the crew are ready and itching for a fight even without Yondu’s rallying words behind them.

That night, he hears Peter’s voice calling for him. 

He wakes up ready to go to war.

Yondu barks out orders and reminders of why they’re here and what they’re up against as the crew pile into the M-ships, loaded to the nines and ready for revenge. 

Even after a year, their pride is still in tatters, their teeth still gnash when they hear Ego’s name, their trigger fingers still twitch when Yondu reminds them of their mission.

But somewhere along the way, the crew’s priority has slipped from revenge to rescue, and plans for Peter’s safety are made when they think Yondu isn’t listening.

Yondu would thank Kraglin, but the man’s just as surprised as he is.

The planet has changed. The land is red and barren, the air stifling and rough in their lungs, and the once-grand palace now a crumbling, rusted ruin. 

And its master fared no better.

Even Yondu feels sick at the sight of Ego, tendons and muscles dangling around bones browned and jagged as if fossilized.

Yondu knows Ego’s new appearance meant his magic was failing, and failing fast, but he doesn’t have time to mock the celestial’s new look because Peter’s staring up at the horror with wide, fearful eyes and that’s a look Yondu wants to wipe from the boy’s face forever.

He whistles, sending his arrow straight towards the pair only to stop it mere centimeters from the monster’s eye.

“Touch ‘im an’ we’ll learn how many holes y’can have.” 

Ego doesn’t flinch, just turns to Yondu with a mangled, smug, toothy smile. Beside him, Peter suddenly drops, faint blue lines curling up his throat and cheeks. 

Yondu sees red and leaps for Ego’s throat.

\---

Peter is drifting, weightless and peaceful, though the stars. He isn’t sure why or how, but in the here and now, he’s content to just be. 

_This is where you belong, my son._ His father’s voice soothes, _You are safe here._

But a spark is there in the back of his mind, warning him that this isn’t normal, isn’t _right_. His father is cruel and vicious and hates Peter for failing him.

The air around him shifts and a new voice joins his father’s, pleading and begging for him to wake up and stand because Ego was going to tear everyone to pieces if he didn’t.

Peter feels warmth, feels a hand on his cheek brushing away phantom tears and suddenly he wants to wake up, _has to_ , because he knows his father is going to kill the only true family Peter has left.

His father’s voice booms around him, arguing that Peter is _safe_ here. Yondu argues back, adding volume and discontent to the dream world Peter’s trapped in.

Peter wakes up to a kaleidoscope of memories from his life as Ego’s son. 

To the crew screaming as they’re burned or buried or speared.

Peter wakes up to Yondu’s bloody face and doesn’t get angry -he gets _explosive._

The years of Ego’s influencing magic wash away from him, the calm, unquestioning, submissive nature that was wrapped around him evaporates into nothingness as he stands to stare down his tormentor. 

The room, the planet, the _universe_ shudders under his righteous fury.

Ego shows fear for the first and last time.

**Epilogue**

Peter turns sixteen.

He doesn’t remember much from his time with Ego (father, monster, Celestial, _dead_ ), but he does remember the fear. He remembers the pain and bright light and the constant feeling of failure that leaves him seeking comfort from Yondu.

But those memories are fading (some slowly, others quicker than he can think on them) and soon become simple nightmares.

His world is red and rust and metal and the constant noise of both crew and ship, and, in a strange, backwards way it’s _home_.

\---

Peter turns seventeen.

He has his own M-ship now, complete with a cassette player and a scary amount of speakers. 

Yondu gives it to him with a smile, a heavy thump on the back, and the words “I’m proud of ya, Pete”.

He hugs Yondu as hard as he can and runs off towards his new baby, the _Milano_ , yelling out a quick “thanks, dad!” over his shoulder.

(He doesn’t realize until much later he’d called Yondu ‘dad’, and that that one, simple word had left Yondu misty-eyed for the rest of the week.)

\---

Peter becomes a man (and a full-fledged Ravager) at eighteen.

His birthday party is a loud one, filled with booze and slaps on the back that leave him bruised for days (the kind of bruising that comes about from the crew not knowing their own strength instead of actual malice, so Peter wears them proudly).

Kraglin gives Peter one of his favorite knives; Yondu gifts him with a brand new Ravager coat, complete with flames; the crew gives Peter the best party he could ever ask for and the worst hangover of his life.

\---

Peter turns nineteen, and then twenty, then twenty-one.

Times goes on, Peter gets older and a little wiser. 

He doesn’t leave home, doesn’t try to escape the _Eclector_ to find his own way in the universe. 

He doesn’t have a reason to.

Peter’s place is next to Yondu and later, when Yondu’s tired of the Ravager life and retires to his newly-purchased tropical island (that Peter visits when he can), Kraglin. 

(Sometimes he dreams of a man that calls him ‘son’ in a voice that makes Peter’s skin crawl, but they’re just dreams, and the man isn’t someone he knows.)

\---

Peter turns thirty.

At some point, he forgets everything about Ego and Yondu becomes the only father Peter’s ever known. 

The legendary and all-powerful Ego slowly slips from known threat to gossip and into fairy tales and stories told in the dark or to misbehaving children.

Ego becomes the boogeyman and Peter moves forward.

\---

Peter turns forty.

He stops aging, he thinks. Either that or he’s aging slower.

He’s okay with it, he thinks, but he does get tired of people calling him ‘kid’.

\---

Peter turns fifty, and then sixty, and then seventy -and the next thing he knows is he’s celebrating his one-hundredth birthday on Yondu’s island with the combined chaos of the 101 Ravager clans.

(Yondu pretends he hates all the noise and more-or-less grumbles his way through the celebrations, but he’s got no one convinced)

He doesn’t dream much anymore, not with a crew and a ship and jobs of his own keeping him either too busy or too exhausted to, but when he does, he dreams of being aboard the _Eclector_. 

Of being part of a crew captained by a Centaurian named Yondu Udonta and a tall, scraggly Xandarian named Kraglin who tries to be nice to him, but more often than not is a pain in the ass with an uncontrollable urge to fight anyone and anything.

He dreams of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was completed around the 12th, but life got hectic with birthdays and family visits -sorry.  
> Also, this's officially the last prompt I have in my docs folder. I have a few bits here and there, but not enough to count as a full chapter. So if you guys have prompts, be sure to send them over to my tumblr, ladyophera! If not, this'll be the last chapter for Infinite Timelines~


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